"I am sorry, monsieur," she said meekly. "But I cannot move as quickly as I could when I was young. How can I serve monsieur?" Not a word of reproach about her broken window. You would think that the hardest man must have felt some remorse. I merely broke in upon her apologies with a rough demand for information. "The road upon your right leads to Chelles, monsieur," she answered. "That upon your left to Raincy." I rode off without another word. It is not a pretty description which I am giving to you, but it is a true one. That is my regret, it is a true one. I forgot that old peasant-woman the moment I had passed the cabin. I thought only of the long avenues of trees which stretched across that flat country, and which could hide whole companies of _francs-tireurs_. I strained my eyes forwards. I listened for the sound of voices. But the first voice which I heard spoke in my own tongue. It was the voice of a sentry on the outposts of Raincy, and I could have climbed down from my saddle and hugged him to my heart. Instead, I sat impassively in my saddle and gave him the countersign. I was conducted to the quarters of the commandant of artillery and I delivered my message. "You have come quickly," he said. "What road did you take?" "That of Chesnay and Gagny." The commandant looked queerly at me. "Did you?" said he. "You are lucky. You will return by Montfermeil and Chelles, Lieutenant von Altrock, and I will send an escort with you. Apparently we are better informed at Raincy than you at Noisy-le-Grand." "I knew there was danger, sir," I replied. [Illustration]