er which was waving
from the mansion.

"That is treachery," he thought, "a breach of faith."

Far away, on the other side of the Marne, the French artillery were
belching forth their deadly fire. He could imagine their handiwork
from the little yellowish clouds that were floating in the air, and
the columns of smoke which were spouting forth at various points of
the landscape where the German troops were hidden, forming a line which
appeared to lose itself in infinity. An atmosphere of protection and
respect seemed to be enveloping the castle.

The morning mists had dissolved; the sun was finally showing its bright
and limpid light, lengthening the shadows of men and trees to fantastic
dimensions. Hills and woods came forth from the haze, fresh and dripping
after their morning bath. The entire valley was now completely exposed,
and Desnoyers was surprised to see the river from the spot to which he
had been rooted--the cannon having opened great windows in the woods
that had hid it from view. What most astonished him in looking over this
landscape, smiling and lovely in the morning light, was that nobody was
to be seen--absolutely nobody. Mountain tops and forests were bellowing
without anyone's being in evidence. There must be more than a hundred
thousand men in the space swept by his piercing gaze, and yet not a
human being was visible. The deadly boom of arms was causing the air to
vibrate without leaving any optical trace. There was no other smoke but
that of the explosions, the black spirals that were flinging their
great shells to burst on the ground. These were rising on all sides,
encircling the castle like a ring of giant tops, but not one of that
orderly circle ventured to touch the edifice. Don Marcelo again stared
at the Red Cross flag. "It is treachery!" he kept repeating; yet at the
same time he was selfishly rejoicing in the base expedient, since it
served to defend his property.

The battalion was at last completely installed the entire length of the
wall, opposite the river. The soldiers, kneeling, were supporting their
guns on the newly made turrets and grooves, and seemed satisfied with
this rest after a night of battling retreat. They all appeared sleeping
with their eyes open. Little by little they were letting themselves drop
back on their heels, or seeking the support of their knapsacks. Snores
were heard in the brief spaces between the artillery fire. The officials
standing behind them were ex