Soon we uncovered the past, step by step.

As fast as we drew near, smaller and smaller details introduced themselves and told us their names--that tree with the stones round it, those forsaken and declining sheds.

I even found recollections shut up in the little retreats of the kilometer-stones.
But Marie was looking at me with an indefinable expression.
"You're icy cold," she said to me suddenly, shivering.
"No," I said, "no." We stopped at an inn to rest and eat, and it was already evening when we reached the streets.
Marie pointed out a man who was crossing over, yonder.
"Monsieur Rampaille is rich now, because of the War." Then it was a woman, dressed in fluttering white and blue, disappearing round the corner of a house: "That's Antonia Veron.

She's been in the Red Cross service.

She's got a decoration because of the War." "Ah!" I said, "everything's changed." Now we are in sight of the house.