To me that young French dragoon is only a name, or not even that, since he has none, but a type of all the gallant soldiers of France who fought in the gap between those blood-stained rivers. Still more, after that contest of speed, that duel to the death at sunrise by the corner of the cemetery wall, he becomes for me a symbol of France—France facing Germany, both knowing that one or the other must fall, both clutching at their weapons and staring into each others’ faces with wide open eyes. I think we will not leave him now till he in his turn rides in triumph into the streets of Lunéville. The sound of the shot brought his men running up to him, and also drew the fire of the company of the dead German officer, who were hidden in a ravine a quarter of a mile further on. Luckily for the handful of dragoons, whom presumably they took for the advance-guard of a larger body of men, they did not, however, advance, but retired to the corner of the buildings of a big manufactory, almost in Lunéville itself. The German position was now on the road just in front of the town, the first houses of which were within easy range of the rifles of the French, who had by this time occupied Rehainviller and were gradually closing in all round. But they still had three days of stiff fighting in front of them before the end was reached, during which they were heavily handicapped, as they had been all through the early part of the war, by the fact that even their 155’s were outranged by a large number of the German pieces, whose average effective range was at that time about six miles, while the French could barely reach four. Supported by these heavier guns from behind Lunéville the enemy advanced again in force to within a mile of Rehainviller, up to a line between Hériménil and the wood of Fréhaut, and it was not till the evening of the 11th that they were finally driven back and that the French were able to look forward with confidence to the prospect of being able to enter Lunéville on the next day. On one of the three days our lieutenant with some of his men was riding through a village which had been occupied by the enemy a few hours before. Not a single inhabitant was left in it. All the houses were sacked. The flight of the Bavarians had been so hurried that they had not had time to burn them. The rest of his story, which it seems to me ought to be told to English readers, I give—because English readers have English ways of looking at life and talking about it—in the original French:— “Par la fenêtre brisée, je voyais la salle à manger d’une demeure confortable. Le buffet eventré, renversé, écrasant la table. La vaisselle s’amoncelait sur le parquet, avec les bouteilles vides et cassées, jusqu’à la hauteur des chaises. Une suspension, tombée du plafond, s’était abîmée sur le buffet, et son globe vert, sans une félure, par un prodige d’équilibre, se maintenait sur ce meuble penché, comme allongé sur la table.