Capitolo 57
underground.
I was too much tired to dispute. While I was standing, while it was looking at her/it there was a
awful explosion. I dressed again wicker in the garden. The picket, his/her gun on
its shoulder, was to the gate.
"What that was it?" I called out to him.
"Makes a bridge on", he responded. "The divisions English you/they are destroying the bridges
on the Marne behind them as them they cross. This means that another
division is ended."
I asked what bridge was, but he didn't clearly know. While me
you/he/she was being standing there, trying to locate him/it from the smoke, an English
official that looked of middle age tall, to regulate, the road rode down
on a chestnut horse, as you disdain, as to regulate, and well the groomed as
him. He of rose in his/her stirrups to look away at the plan before he saw
me. Then he looked at me, then above to the flags that fly on the
it gate,-- the Stars and Stripes,--smiled, and it got off.
"American, I see", he said.
I told him I was.
"Long live here?" says him.
I told him that I did.
"Being on?" he asked.
I responded that it seemed him/it.
He looked me at a moment before he said, "please you invite me in Your
garden and that sight shows me."
I had delighted. I opened the gate, and he wondered aimlessly in and it wondered aimlessly
with a footstep along long, slow--a long footstep long-that it has legs--out above to the lawn and
straight down to the hedge, and it looked away.
"Beautiful", he said, as him taken his/her field-glass, and it turned on the
you plan case that hung to his/her side. "What city is it that?" he asked,
sharpening to the close-up.
I told him that it was Mareuil-on-the-Marne.
"How far street he is?" he questioned.
I told him that it was approximately two miles, and Meaux was around the same
you outdistance over him.
"What city is it that?" he asked, while sharpening to the hill.
I explained that the city on the horizon was Penchard--not really a
city, only a village; and it lowers down, between Penchard and Meaux, it was