, I knew he was
shaking his woolly head in disgust.

Saniez had a marvellous voice, and when he sang he held us
spell-bound, and he knew it. I do not speak French, and could not
understand his words, but his expression was wonderful; and he would
fling his arms about in frantic gesticulation.

When Saniez sang he seemed to lift himself into a different
atmosphere; he was back again in France; his songs all seemed about
his country and his home. He seemed to rouse himself into a sudden
spirit of defiance, and then his voice would grow soft and pathetic;
and then slop, slop, slop, in his slippered feet, he would hurry off
to a bedside to fix a bandage or administer a drink of water.

Every morning German soldiers could be heard marching past our
windows, singing their national songs. We listened; Saniez would stop
his work. What we wanted to say we would leave to Saniez, as broom in
hand and eyes of fire he would wait until their voices died away in
the distance, and then, with a fierce shake of his head he would
shout: "Boche! Nix!" and, flinging his arms about his head, would sing
the "Marseillaise."

One evening, and I remember it well, though no pen of mine can
adequately describe the soul-stirring picture--we had a concert in
Ward 43. Four British and four French officers--a symbol of the
Entente Cordiale--lay side by side in their cots, while convalescent
prisoners from other wards sat in front to cheer them with song and
music.

The Allies seemed well represented: An English Tommy with a guitar
sang a comic song; a Russian soldier with a three-cornered string
instrument, sang a folk-song of his native land; a Belgian soldier
played the violin; and Saniez sang for France.

The applause that greeted the finish of each song was of a mixed kind;
for those whose arms were maimed would shout, and those who could not
shout would bang a chair or clap their hands. It was a patriotic and
inspiring scene, and even the German orderly, coming in to see what
was going on, was tempted to stop and listen.

We felt we were no longer prisoners; the spirit of the Allies was
unconquerable.

Enthusiasm reached its highest pitch when Saniez brought it to a
dramatic conclusion. Saniez had just finished a soul-inspiring song of
his homeland. His audience could not withhold their applause until he
finished, and Saniez could not restrain his spirit until the end of
the applause. He suddenly threw up his arms, and at the top of hi