Here beside these cottages we fell into a fantastic world.

That small village must in other times have been a pretty place, nestling with its gardens by the river under the hill.

It seemed now to rock and rattle under the noise of the cannon.

All the open spaces were like white marble in the moonlight and in these open spaces there was utter silence and emptiness.

The place seemed deserted--and yet, in every shadow, in long lines under the cottage wells, in little clumps and clusters round trees or ruins there were eyes staring, the gleam of muskets shone, little specks of light, dancing from wall to wall.