The conference was waxing warmer, the lieutenant was talking in a loud voice, and once he shook his fist menacingly; again there was a wail of protest from the crowd—women were wringing their hands——
“He is demanding more than the village can supply,” remarked the girl. “That is not surprising,” she added, with a bitter smile. “They will always demand more than can be supplied. But come; we must be getting on.”
Stewart would have liked to see the end of the drama, but he followed his companion over the wall at the side of the road, and then around the village and along the rough hillside. Suddenly from the houses below arose a hideous tumult—shouts, curses, the smashing of glass—and in a moment, a flood of people, wailing, screaming, shaking their fists in the air, burst from the town and swept along the road in the direction of Herve.
“They would better have given all that was demanded,” said the girl, looking down at them. “Now they will be made to serve as an example to other villages—they will lose everything—even their houses—see!”
Following the direction of her pointing finger, Stewart saw a black cloud of smoke bulging up from one end of the village.
“But surely,” he gasped, “they’re not burning it! They wouldn’t dare do that!”
“Why not?”
“Isn’t looting prohibited by the rules of war?”
“Certainly—looting and the destruction of property of non-combatants.”
“Well, then——”