down," the woman said. “That's why we find
the upper cellar more comfortable after all.
Wouldn't we be more comfortable there now?"
We agreed. As we went up she told us how Arras was honey-combed with these cellars. We left her with a real regret for the strange light and the racket outside. We reached the vicinity of the cathedral over a hill of rubbish.
"Palladian," the foreign office man said.
The stark remnants of the cathedral, indeed, were more impressive than the untouched building—a bad example of the late Renaissance—could have been. Its size must have been enormous.
"Usually it's all right to go in," Williams said, "but I wouldn't advise it to-day. Do as you please, but if one of those walls should fall —"
We didn't argue the point. We had learned to believe in Williams' judgment. He glanced continuously at his watch as we went on. We knew he was trusting to the luncheon hour to give us an opportunity to slip out of Arras in comparative safety. By the time we had returned to the market place, in fact, the roar had receded, and the explosions of shells were less frequent. The drivers seemed glad to see us. So we left, dodging new holes and obstructions, casting quick glances at the driftwood of that morning's straf-
