After lunch we stood for some time watching the unending stream of camions proceeding into Verdun.  I believe it has been stated that on the average one passed through the village every fifteen seconds, and that there are something like twelve thousand motor vehicles used in the defence of Verdun.  The splendid condition of the roads and the absence of all confusion in the handling of this immense volume of traffic are a great tribute to the organising genius of the chiefs of the French Army.

We left General Nivelle as General Petain predicted we should find him—­smiling.

Rheims

We slept that night at Epernay, in the heart of the Champagne district.  The soil of France is doing its best to keep the vines in perfect condition and to provide a good vintage to be drunk later to celebrate the victory of France and her Allies.  The keeping of the roads in good condition is necessary for the rapid carrying out of operations on the Front, and a “marmite” hole is promptly filled if by a lucky shot the German batteries happen to tear up the roadway.  We were proceeding casually along one road when a young officer rode up to us and told us to put on speed because we were under fire from a German battery which daily landed one or two shells in that particular portion of the roadway.  It is wonderful how obedient one becomes at times!  We promptly proceeded to hasten!  After visiting General Debeney and obtaining from him the necessary authorisation and an officer escort, we entered Rheims.

The cathedral is now the home of pigeons, and as they fly in and out of the blackened window-frames small pieces of the stained glass tinkle down on to the floor.  The custodian of the cathedral told us that during the night of terror the German wounded, lying in the cathedral, not realising the strength and beauty of the French character under adversity, feared, seeing the cathedral in flames, that the populace might wreak vengeance on them, and that it was exceedingly difficult to get them to leave the cathedral.  Many of the prisoners fled into corners and hid, and some of them even penetrated into the palace of the Archbishop, which was in flames.  All the world knows and admires the bravery of the cure of the cathedral, M. Landrieux, who took upon himself the defence of the prisoners, for fear insults might be hurled at them.  He knowingly risked his life, but when, next day, some of his confreres endeavoured to praise him he replied:  “My friends, I never before realised how easy it was to die.”

One of the churches in the city was heavily draped in black, and I asked the sacristan if they had prepared for the funeral of a prominent citizen.  He told me that they were that day bringing home the body of a young man of high birth of the neighbourhood, but that it was not for him that the church was decked in mourning.  The draperies had hung there since August, 1914—­“Since every son of Rheims who is brought home is as noble as the one who comes to-day, and alas! nearly every day brings us one of our children.”