from the battle field, but were lying groaning on the ground, burying their bleeding members in the dust or mud, and weltering in the ooze from their wounds. . . .  And Don Marcelo, who a few hours before had been considering himself the unhappiest of mortals, now experienced a cruel joy in reflecting that so many thousands of vigorous men at the point of death could well envy him for his hale old age, and for the tranquillity with which he was reposing on that humble bed.

The next morning the orderly was waiting for him in the same place, holding out a napkin filled with eatables.  Good red-bearded man, helpful and kind! . . . and he offered him the piece of gold.

“Nein,” replied the fellow, with a broad, malicious grin.  Two gleaming gold pieces appeared between Don Marcelo’s fingers.  Another leering “Nein” and a shake of the head.  Ah, the robber!  How he was taking advantage of his necessity! . . .  And not until he had produced five gold coins was he able to secure the package.

He soon began to notice all around him a silent and sly conspiracy to get possession of his money.  A giant in a sergeant’s uniform put a shovel in his hand pushing him roughly forward.  He soon found himself in a corner of the park that had been transformed into a graveyard, near the cart of cadavers; there he had to shovel dirt on his own ground in company with the indignant prisoners.

He averted his eyes so as not to look at the rigid and grotesque bodies piled above him at the edge of the pit, ready to be tumbled in.  The ground was sending forth an insufferable odor, for decomposition had already set in in the nearby trenches.  The persistence with which his overseers accosted him, and the crafty smile of the sergeant made him see through the deep-laid scheme.  The red-beard must be at the bottom of all this.  Putting his hand in his pocket he dropped the shovel with a look of interrogation.  “Ya,” replied the sergeant.  After handing over the required sum, the tormented old man was permitted to stop grave-digging and wander around at his pleasure; he knew, however, what was probably in store for him—­those men were going to submit him to a merciless exploitation.

Another day passed by, like its predecessor.  In the morning of the following day his perceptions, sharpened by apprehension, made him conjecture that something extraordinary had occurred.  The automobiles were arriving and departing with greater rapidity, and there was greater disorder and confusion among the executive force.  The telephone was ringing with mad precipitation; and the wounded arrivals seemed more depressed.  The day before they had been singing when taken from the vehicles, hiding their woe with laughter and bravado, all talking of the near victory and regretting that they would not be able to witness the triumphal entry into Paris.  Now they were all very silent, with furrowed brows, thinking no longer about what was going on behind them, wondering only about their own fate.