street-cleaning department and who went
about, helmet clad, attending to his chores, now and then shouting a
hearty "_Whoa Bijou_" to a faithful quadruped who patiently dragged his
dump cart, and over whose left ear during the entire Summer, was tied a
bunch of tri-colour field flowers.

I had almost forgotten to mention two extraordinary old women, whom I
came upon seated out in a deserted street, making over a mattress,
while gently discussing their private affairs. It was the end of a
warm July afternoon. A refreshing coolness had begun to rise from the
adjacent river, and in the declining sunlight I could see great swarms
of honey bees hovering about a climbing rose bush whose fragrant
blossoms hung in huge clusters over the top of a convent wall near by.
I could not resist the temptation. Pressed by the desire to possess I
stepped forward and was about to reach upward when a masculine voice,
whose owner was hidden somewhere near my elbow called forth:

"Back, I say! Back! you're in sight!"

I quickly dived into the shadow for cover just in time to hear the
bullets from a German machine gun whizz past my ear!

"You can trust them to see everything," murmured one of the old women,
not otherwise disturbed. "But if you really want some roses just go
around the block and in by the back gate, Madame."

How in the presence of such calm can we believe in war?

Ah, France! elsewhere perhaps there may be just as brave--but surely
none more sweetly!

III

The little village was just behind the lines. The long stretch of
roadway, that following the Aisne finally passed through its main
street, had been so thoroughly swept by German fire that it was as
though pockmarked by ruts and shell holes, always half full of muddy
water.

A sign to the left said--

_Chemin, defile de V._--

There could be no choice; there was but to follow the direction
indicated, branch out onto a new highway which, over a distance of two
or three miles, wound in and out with many strategic contortions; a
truly military route whose topography was the most curious thing
imaginable. If by accident there happened to be a house in its way it
didn't take the trouble to go _around_, but _through_ the edifice.

One arrived thus in the very midst of the village, having involuntarily
traversed not only the notary's flower garden, but also his
drawing-room, if one were to judge by the quality of the now much faded
wall paper, an