“I know not,” said the adjoint.  “They found four market-gardeners returning from the fields last night and shot them too—­they made them dig their own graves, and tied their hands behind their backs with their own scarves.  I protested to a Staff officer; he said it was ‘verboten’ to dig potatoes.  I said they did not know; how could they?  He said they ought to know.  Then he abused me, and said if I made any more complaints he would shoot me too.  They have made the civils dig trenches.”

“Ah,” said the maire.  He knew it was a flagrant violation of the Hague Regulations, but it was not the tithe of mint and cummin of the law that troubled him.  It was the reflection that the civil who is forced to dig trenches is already as good as dead.  He knows too much.

“And the women,” continued the adjoint, in a tone of stupefied horror, “they are crying, many of them, and will not look one in the face.  Some of them have black eyes.  And the young girls!”

The maire brooded in impotent horror.  His meditations were interrupted by the entrance of the captain.  “The Commandant wishes to see you tout de suite,” he exclaimed.  “March!” He was conducted by a corporal’s guard, preceded by the captain, into the presence of the General, who had taken up his quarters in the principal mansion looking out upon the square.  The General was a stout, square-headed man, with grey moustaches and steel-blue eyes, and the maire divined at a glance that here was no swashbuckler, but a man who had himself under control.  “I have imposed a fine of 300,000 francs upon your town; you will collect it in twenty-four hours; if it is not forthcoming to the last franc I shall be regretfully compelled to burn this town to the ground.”

“And why?” exclaimed the maire, whom nothing could now surprise, though much might perplex.

The General seemed unprepared for the question.  He paused for a moment and said, “Some one has been giving information to the enemy.”  “No!”—­he held up his hand, not impolitely but finally, as the maire began to expostulate—­“I have spoken.”

“But,” said the maire desperately, “we shall be ruined.  We have not got it.  And all our goods have been taken already.”

“You have our receipts,” said the General.  “They are as good as gold.  German credit is very high; the Imperial Government has just floated a loan of several milliards.  And you have our stamped Quittungen.”  He became at once voluble and persuasive in his cupidity, and forgot something of his habitual caution.  “You surely do not doubt the word of the German Government?” he said.  The maire doubted it very much, but he discreetly held his tongue.  “And our requisitioning officers have not been niggardly,” continued the General; “they have put a substantial price on the goods we have taken.”  This was true.  It had not escaped the maire that the receipt-forms had been lavish.