[Illustration: On our way]
We went back to billets a very subdued lot of soldiers.
Later in the day I noticed a lot of boys talking to a young Belgian girl. I
had no opportunity to speak to her then, but after a time I found her
alone, and with the little English Mademoiselle Marie B---- had picked up
from British soldiers lately billeted there, and with the small amount of
French I had stored away, we held quite a long conversation.
[Illustration: (C)_Famous Players--Lasky Corporation. Scene from the
Photo-Play_
THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER.]
I should judge that she was about fifteen. She told me she was sixteen. She
was piquant and pretty in appearance, but her features were drawn and her
expression was sad. She had a questioning wistfulness in her eyes, but she
showed no fear of the many British soldiers round.
This young girl, little over a child, was all alone. She awaited in terror
the coming of her baby, and the fiends who had outraged her had brutally
cut off her right arm just a little above the elbow.
"How did this happen to you, Mademoiselle?" I asked in French.
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