We went again to Spa in the auto. Passing again through the pitiful village of LouvignÉ, we saw, in a meadow, the graves, covered with wayside flowers, of the farmers who were shot. The soldiers picked out forty of the villagers, stood them up in a line, then shouted, "Save yourselves." Thirteen were shot in the back and the rest escaped. What words to find for this barbarism? But is it barbarism and not rather the refined cruelty of civilization? Is it not better then to remain a primitive, with a beautiful faith in the Sun-god?