s began to look cheerful. The Germans had still not
arrived, our own car turned up, and best of all the Prince heard
officially that every wounded man who was at all transportable had now
been successfully got out of Lodz. It was a gigantic task, this
evacuation of over 18,000 wounded in four days, and it is a great
feather in the Russian cap to have achieved it so successfully.

It was a most lovely day with a soft blue sky, and all the world bathed
in winter sunshine. Shelling had ceased during the night, but began
again with terrific force in the morning, and we started off under a
perfect hail of shells. There were four German aeroplanes hovering just
above us, throwing down bombs at short intervals. The shells aimed at
them looked so innocent, like little white puff-balls bursting up in the
blue sky. We hoped they would be brought down, but they were too high
for that. The bombs were only a little diversion of theirs by the
way--they were really trying to locate the Russian battery, as they were
evidently making signals to their own headquarters. Danger always adds
a spice to every entertainment, and as the wounded were all out and we
had nobody but ourselves to think about, we could enjoy our thrilling
departure from Lodz under heavy fire to the uttermost. And I must say I
have rarely enjoyed anything more. It was simply glorious spinning along
in that car, and we got out safely without anyone being hurt.

We passed through Breeziny, where the tail-end of a battle was going on,
and the Prince stopped the car for a few minutes so that we could see
the men in the trenches. On our way we passed crowds of terrified
refugees hurrying along the road with their few possessions on their
backs or in their arms; it reminded me of those sad processions of
flying peasants in Belgium, but I think these were mostly much poorer,
and had not so much to lose. Just as the sun was setting we stopped for
a rest at a place the Prince knew of, half inn, half farm-house. We
looked back, and the sky was bloody and lurid over the western plain
where Lodz lay. To us it seemed like an ill omen for the unhappy town,
but it may be that the Germans took those flaming clouds to mean that
even the heavens themselves were illuminated to signal their victory.

Some bread and some pale golden Hungarian Tokay were produced by our
host for our refreshment. The latter was delicious, but it must have
been much more potent than it looked, for though I