continually one had to be extricating oneself from them. Continually
came the hollow sound of things falling and slipping within the
smashed interiors behind the facades. And then came the sound of
a baby crying. For this city is not, after all, uninhabited. We saw a
woman coming out of her house and carefully locking the door
behind her. Was she locking it against shells, or against burglars?
Observe those pipes rising through gratings in the pavement, and
blue smoke issuing therefrom. Those pipes are the outward sign
that such inhabitants as remain have transformed their cellars into
drawing-rooms and bedrooms. We descended into one such home.
The real drawing-room, on the ground-floor, had been invaded by a
shell. In that apartment richly-carved furniture was mixed up with
pieces of wall and pieces of curtain under a thick layer of white dust.
But this underground home, with its arched roof and aspect of
extreme solidity, was tidy and very snugly complete in all its
arrangements, and the dark entrance to it well protected against the
hazards of bombardment.

"Nevertheless," said the master of the home, "a 210-mm. shell
would penetrate everything. It would be the end."

He threw up his hands with a nonchalant gesture. He was a fatalist
worthy of his city, which is now being besieged and ruined not for
the first time. The Vandals (I mean the original Vandals) laid waste
Arras again and again. Then the Franks took it. Then, in the ninth
century, the Normans ravaged it; and then Charles the Simple; and
then Lothair; and then Hugh Capet. In the fifteenth century Charles
VI. besieged it for seven weeks, and did not take it. Under Louis XI.
it was atrociously outraged. It revolted, and was retaken by assault,
its walls razed, its citizens expatriated, and its name changed.