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had fled； having become infected with the same fear that was driving on the crowds following the army。 The mayor and the priest remained。 Reconciled with the owner of the castle through his unexpected presence in their midst； and admiring his liberality； the municipal official approached to give him some news。 The engineers were mining the bridge over the Marne。 They were only waiting for the dragoons to cross before blowing it up。 If he wished to go； there was still time。
Again Desnoyers hesitated。 Certainly it was foolhardy to remain there。 But a glance at the woods over whose branches rose the towers of his castle； settled his doubts。 No； no。 。 。 。 〃We must finish what we have begun！〃
The very last band of troopers now made their appearance； coming out of the woods by different paths。 They were riding their horses slowly； as though they deplored this retreat。 They kept looking behind； carbine in hand； ready to halt and shoot。 The others who had been occupying the barricade were already on their mounts。 The division reformed； the commands of the officers were heard and a quick trot； accompanied by the clanking of metal； told Don Marcelo that the last of the army had left。
He remained near the barricade in a solitude of intense silence； as though the world were suddenly depopulated。 Two dogs； abandoned by the flight of their masters； leaped and sniffed around him； coaxing him for protection。 They were unable to get the desired scent in that land trodden down and disfigured by the transit of thousands of men。 A family cat was watching the birds that were beginning to return to their haunts。 With timid flutterings they were picking at what the horses had left； and an ownerless hen was disputing the banquet with the winged band； until then hidden in the trees and roofs。 The silence intensified the rustling of the leaves； the hum of the insects； the summer respiration of the sunburnt soil which appeared to have contracted timorously under the weight of the men in arms。
Desnoyers was losing exact track of the passing of time。 He was beginning to believe that all which had gone before must have been a bad dream。 The calm surrounding him made what had been happening here seem most improbable。
Suddenly he saw something moving at the far end of the road； at the very highest point where the white ribbon of the highway touched the blue of the horizon。 There were two men on horseback； two little tin soldiers who appeared to have escaped from a box of toys。 He had brought with him a pair of field glasses that had often surprised marauders on his property； and by their aid he saw more clearly the two riders clad in greenish gray！ They were carrying lances and wearing helmets ending in a horizontal plate 。 。 。 They！ He could not doubt it： before his eyes were the first Uhlans！
For some time they remained motionless； as though exploring the horizon。 Then； from the obscure masses of vegetation that bordered the roadside； others and still others came sallying forth in groups。 The little tin soldiers no longer were showing their silhouettes against the horizon's blue； the whiteness of the highway was now making their background； ascending behind their heads。 They came slowly down； like a band that fears ambush； examining carefully everything around。
The advisability of prompt retirement made Don Marcelo bring his investigations to a close。 It would be most disastrous for him if they surprised him here。 But on lowering his glasses something extraordinary passed across his field of vision。 A short distance away； so that he could almost touch them with his hand； he saw many men skulking along in the shadow of the trees on both sides of the road。 His surprise increased as he became convinced that they were Frenchmen； wearing kepis。 Where were they coming from？ 。 。 。 He examined more closely with his spy glass。 They were stragglers in a lamentable state of body and a picturesque variety of uniforms infantry； Zouaves； dragoons without their horses。 And with them were forest guards and officers from the villages that had received too late the news of the retreataltogether about fifty。 A few were fresh and vigorous； others were keeping themselves up by supernatural effort。 All were carrying arms。
They finally made the barricade； looking continually behind them； in order to watch； in the shelter of the trees； the slow advance of the Uhlans。 At the head of this heterogeneous troop was an official of the police； old and fat； with a revolver in his right hand； his moustache bristling with excitement； and a murderous glitter in his heavy…lidded blue eyes。 The band was continuing its advance through the village； slipping over to the other side of the barricade of carts without paying much attention to their curious countryman； when suddenly sounded a loud detonation； making the horizon vibrate and the houses tremble。
〃What is that？〃 asked the officer； looking at Desnoyers for the first time。 He explained that it was the bridge which had just been blown up。 The leader received the news with an oath； but his confused followers； brought together by chance； remained as indifferent as though they had lost all contact with reality。
〃Might as well die here as anywhere；〃 continued the official。 Many of the fugitives acknowledged this decision with prompt obedience； since it saved them the torture of continuing their march。 They were almost rejoicing at the explosion which had cut off their progress。 Instinctively they were gathering in the places most sheltered by the barricade。 Some entered the abandoned houses whose doors the dragoons had forced in order to utilize the upper floors。 All seemed satisfied to be able to rest； even though they might soon have to fight。 The officer went from group to group giving his orders。 They must not fire till he gave the word。
Don Marcelo watched these preparations with the immovability of surprise。 So rapid and noiseless had been the apparition of the stragglers that he imagined he must still be dreaming。 There could be no danger in this unreal situation； it was all a lie。 And he remained in his place without understanding the deputy who was ordering his departure with roughest words。 Obstinate civilian！ 。 。 。
The reverberation of the explosion had filled the highway with horsemen。 They were coming from all directions； forming themselves into the advance group。 The Uhlans were galloping around under the impression that the village was abandoned。
〃Fire！〃
Desnoyers was enveloped in a rain of crackling noises； as though the trunks of all the trees had split before his eyes。
The impetuous band halted suddenly。 Some of their men were rolling on the ground。 Some were bending themselves double； trying to get across the road without being seen。 Others remained stretched out on their backs or face downward with their arms in front。 The riderless horses were racing wildly across the fields with reins dragging； urged on by the loose stirrups。
And after this rude shock which had brought them surprise and death； the band disappeared； instantly swallowed up by the trees。
CHAPTER IV
NEAR THE SACRED GROTTO
Argensola had found a new