Again we halted, and the trumpeter and the trooper with the white flag
rode on to the farther part of the somewhat scattered village. Suddenly
the trumpet's call rang out through the sharp, frosty air, and then we
again moved on, passing down another village street where several gaunt
starving cats attempted to follow us, with desperate strides and piteous
mews. Before long, we perceived, standing in the middle of the road before
us, a couple of German soldiers in long great-coats and boots reaching to
the shins. One of them was carrying a white flag. A brief conversation
ensued with them, for they both spoke French, and one of them knew English
also. Soon afterwards, from behind a stout barricade which we saw ahead,
three or four of their officers arrived, and somewhat stiff and
ceremonious salutes were exchanged between them and the French officers in
charge of our party.
Our arrival had probably been anticipated. At all events, a big and
very welcome fire of logs and branches was blazing near by, and whilst
one or two officers on either side, together with Colonel Claremont and
some officials of the British Charitable Fund, were attending to the
safe-conducts of her then Majesty's subjects, the other French and German
officers engaged in conversation round the fire I have mentioned.
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