A further advance was impossible. The Germans had checked the onrush by the weight of their artillery. The victory of the Marne was over. The phase of the deadlock had begun.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE CELLARS OF POUSSEY
The Subaltern was too dazed to realise the significance of the day's fighting, but he brought his men back to the village without mishap, and behind the shelter of its walls they lay down to sleep just as they were.
In a little time the whole Battalion was rallied in the village, and fresh reinforcements were sent forward to hold a line nearer the village.
The night that followed was cold and windy. In spite of a fire that his men lit in a little side street, and various sacks that they "lifted" from barns, the cold caused extreme discomfort, and it was with a great sigh of relief that at length dawn broke upon them.
The Subaltern stumbled to his feet before it was fully light, shook the miserable sacks from his feet, and set out to explore the village.
Like most of its kind, it had only one central street, which was steep and winding. Underfoot were the usual cobbles, and the walls had a queer look of leaning inwards over the road with a protective air. He had not gone many yards before he came upon the little village square. Half of it was shut in by a huge, castle-like structure, which with its carved stone fountain gave the place almost a medieval air.
The gate in the wall was unlocked, and through the aperture he caught a glimpse of a trim garden and a comfortable-looking house.