of the car. We knew that we were near the entrance to the vaults of the
citadel and could take refuge, so we left the car and proceeded on foot.
Without thinking, we walked in the centre of the road, and the sentinel
at the door of the citadel began in somewhat emphatic French to
recommend us to "longer les murs" (to hug the walls tightly). The
Germans are well aware of the entrance to the citadel and daily shell
the spot. If one meets a shell in the centre of the road it is obviously
no use to argue, whilst in hugging the side of the wall there is a
possibility of only receiving the fragments of the bursting shell.

The subterranean galleries of the citadel of Verdun were constructed by
Vauban, and are now a hive of activity--barbers' shops, sweet shops,
boot shops, hospitals, anything and everything which goes to make up a
small city.

One of the young officers placed his "cell" at our disposal. The long
galleries are all equipped with central heating and electric light, and
some of them have been divided off by wooden partitions or curtains like
the dormitories in a large school. In the "cell" allocated to us we
could see the loving touch of a woman's hand. Around the pillow on the
small camp-bed was a beautiful edging of Irish lace, and on the
dressing-table a large bottle of eau-de-Cologne. There is no reason to
be too uncomfortable in Verdun when one has a good little wife to think
of one and to send presents from time to time.

Emerging from the galleries we met General Dubois, a great soldier and a
kindly man, one who shares the daily perils of his men. The General
invited us to remain and dine with him. He had that day received from
General Nivelle his _cravate_ as Commander of the Legion of Honour, and
his officers were giving him a dinner-party to celebrate the event. "See