On Tuesday the German skirmishers with light artillery were coming
southwards to Beauvais, and the sound of their field guns greeted my
ears in this town, which I shall always remember with unpleasant
recollections, in spite of its old-world beauty and the loveliness of the
scene in which it is set.
Beauvais lies directly between Amiens and Paris, and it seemed to
me that it was the right place to be in order to get into touch with the
French army barring the way to the capital. As a matter of fact it
seemed to be the wrong place from all points of view.
8
I might have suspected that something was wrong by the strange
look on the face of a friendly French peasant whom I met at Gournay.
He had described to me in a very vivid way the disposition of the
French troops on the neighbouring hills who had disappeared in the
undulation below the sky-line, but when I mentioned that I was on the
way to Beauvais he suddenly raised his head and looked at me in a
queer, startled way which puzzled me. I remember that look when I
began to approach the town. Down the road came small parties of
peasants with fear in their eyes. Some of them were in farm carts,
and they shouted to tired horses and put them to a stumbling gallop.
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