Fly, Eagle, Fly, they sang as they marched into town. And then they gave way to the magnificent hymn of Martin Luther, the battle song of the Protestant nations in the Thirty Years' War, the battle song of Prussia ever since that time, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God!
Henri watched them as they marched by, tears in his eyes. Finally he could suppress the thought no longer, and he turned to Frank with:
"They have said that Germany has fine soldiers, but they are not like our men! There's all the difference in the world between them—and that difference will bring victory to our banners. Our men fight for right; these men fight because they think it their duty."
"Even though they are the foe, I hope there will be no shooting at them here. If there is, they will show no mercy, I am sure of that," said Frank.
"Amiens has pledged its honor," replied Henri quietly. "They are safe here. Will they harm Monsieur le Maire? Oh, do you think they will harm him?"
"No, I think not if there is no resistance offered. I wonder if any will be quartered at your house, Henri?"
"I hope not," said Henri, flushing.
A change, as it turned out, was made in that plan. The general in command of the brigade, who proclaimed himself within an hour of his arrival as military governor of Amiens, decided to keep his men under canvas. Tents sprang up like mushrooms in the parks and open spaces. Amiens was required to furnish great quantities of foodstuffs—bread, flour, wine, meat. But the troops were not quartered in the houses. And by nightfall the town seemed to have settled down peacefully to the new conditions. German aeroplanes were flying constantly overhead; officers came in, and more troops.
"Amiens is again the headquarters of an army corps," said Frank. He was suffering almost as keenly as Henri, but he did not mean to let his chum brood upon the disaster that had overtaken his home. And, after all, it might have been worse. He thought of Louvain and other Belgian cities.
That night Amiens was a German city. Trains passed through continually now, bearing troops; some, returning, carried wounded, whose groans resounded in the silence. And in the distance to the south, toward Paris, the roar of guns seemed louder again.