But no news. Only whispers and more whispers of invasion—invasion!
Oh, if Paul would only come back!
Jeanne rocked her baby.
The invasion came. It was one of the last invasions before the Great War came to an end. The enemy burned the little town to the ground.
The great march of the refugees had started. The roads to Paris were alive with homeless people—struggling, homeless humanity, with only the hope of reaching Paris alive.
The village—Paul's village—was a desolate place. As the troop of French soldiers returned after the invasion and marched into it, there was not a soul to be seen. Among those marching French soldiers came Paul.
To the scene of his home he ran. Everything—everything was in ruins! His house! Gone! His wife!
"Jeanne! Jeanne!" Paul's voice was a shriek.