"What's that noise off yonder?" I asked, with one ear cocked toward the
east.
Miss Falconer roused herself.
"It is the cannonading," she answered. "We have come a long way, Mr.
Bayne. In two hours--in less than that--we could drive to the Front. And
see!"
The dark was coming fast; a crimson sunset was reddening the river. A
little below us on the opposite bank, I saw what had been a village once
upon a time. But some agency of destruction had done its work there;
blackened spaces and heaped stones and the shells of dwellings rose tier
on tier among trees that seemed trying to hide them; only on the crest
of the bank, overlooking the wreck like a gloomy sentinel, one building
loomed intact, a dark, scarred, frowning castle with medieval walls and
towers. I stared at the scene of desolation.
"The Germans again!" I said.
"Yes," the girl assented, gazing across the water. "They came here at
the beginning of the war. They burned the houses and the huts and the
little church with the image of the Virgin and the tomb of the old
constable--all Prezelay except the chateau; and they only left that
standing to give their officers a home.
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