eum and certain Assyrian bas-reliefs--relics of bestial humanity,
which had filled him with terror. The warriors were represented as
burning the towns; the prisoners were beheaded in heaps; the pacific
countrymen were marching in lines with chains on their necks, forming
strings of slaves. Until that moment he had never realized the advance
which civilization had made through the centuries. Wars were still
breaking out now and then, but they had been regulated by the march of
progress. The life of the prisoner was now held sacred; the captured
towns must be respected; there existed a complete code of international
law to regulate how men should be killed and nations should combat,
causing the least possible harm. . . . But now he had just seen the
primitive realities of war. The same as that of thousands of years ago!
The men with the helmets were proceeding in exactly the same way as
those ferocious and perfumed satraps with blue mitre and curled beard.
The adversary was shot although not carrying arms; the prisoner died of
shot or blow from the gun; the civilian captives were sent in crowds
to Germany like those of other centuries. Of what avail was all our
so-called Progress? Where was our boasted civilization? . . .

He was awakened by the light of a candle in his eyes. The Warden's wife
had come up again to see if he needed anything.

"Oh, what a night, Master! Just hear them yelling and singing! The
bottles that they have emptied! . . . They are in the dining room. You
better not see them. Now they are amusing themselves by breaking the
furniture. Even the Count is drunk; drunk, too, is that Commandant that
you were talking with, and all the rest. . . . Some of them are dancing
half-naked."

She evidently wished to keep quiet about certain details, but her love
of talking got the better of her discretion. Some of the officers had
dressed themselves up in the hats and gowns of her mistress and were
dancing and shouting, imitating feminine seductiveness and affectations.
. . . One of them had been greeted with roars of enthusiasm upon
presenting himself with no other clothing than a "combination" of
Mademoiselle Chichi's. Many were taking obscene delight in soiling the
rugs and filling the sideboard drawers with indescribable filth, using
the finest linens that they could lay their hands on.

Her master silenced her peremptorily. Why tell him such vile, disgusting
things? . . .

"And we are obliged to wait on t