We were in the midst of a Prussian encampment, and the Mayor of the village had shown his sentiments in most unambiguous fashion; he had not the slightest desire to risk his neck in order to save some unknown men, who had been wrong-headed enough, according to him, to cross the Prussian lines in a balloon, and to drop exactly into his unfortunate village, which had all the best reasons in the world to live on good terms with the enemy’s army.... And then appears a simple villager, the first-comer as it were, and one who has no reason to interfere in a nasty business which does not concern him, and offers his services spontaneously and light-heartedly without being asked by anyone, in order to save three unknown men from under the Prussians’ noses! By doing so he was exposing himself, when he returned from his expedition on the morrow, to a reward at the hands of the enemy whose nature could not be doubted. Such were the thoughts in my mind while M. Thiébeaux explained how urgent it was that we should leave, and offered to conduct us to the frontier through the Prussian army. So I again inspected M. Thiébeaux, and not without suspicion. But the more I looked at him the further did suspicion fly from my mind. He had a frank and honest eye and a simple and natural attitude. Such clear signs of sincerity and loyalty emanated from his whole person that my doubts ceased, and I felt remorse at having for a single moment suspected the sincerity of his devotion. He had finished his little speech by asking the simple question, “Will you trust yourselves to me?” I held out my hand, and said, “Shake, M. Thiébeaux, and let us start.” “But I do not want to start alone,” he said. “I have a friend who knows the way better than I, and we shall have need of him. I will answer for him. May I bring him with me?” A little later my companions and I were seated with our brave guides in a little country carriage and making for the Belgian frontier. Vigneulles is in the Meuse, at the entrance to the great plain which is known as the “Grande Woëvre.” This was the scene of the memorable battles of the 16th and 18th of August, 1870, the battles which are called Mars-la-Tour, Rezonville, Gravelotte and Saint-Privat.[B] The little village lies between Verdun and Metz, and is about forty kilometres distant from the latter. [B] NOTE:--It is also the scene of very serious fighting at the present moment (Feb., 1915). Vigneulles is a few miles from the German position at St. Mihiel. This enabled us to calculate the path we must have taken in our balloon. The distance from Paris to Metz is about four hundred kilometres, but our balloon did not take a direct course. During the first part of our journey we went persistently in an opposite direction--that is to say, towards the west of France--and it was only when the storm commenced, which was about 11 o’clock in the morning, that the wind must have shifted and carried us towards the east.