ntier "like a wall of steel from Flanders to
Alsace,"--the heroes of Souchez, of Dixmude, of the Maison du
Passeur, of Souain, of Notre Dame de Lorette, and of the great
retreat. It made a long list and I could feel the thrill running all over
the room full of soldiers who, if they live, will be a part of that
triumphal procession, of which no one talks yet except a poet.

But when he had pictured that scene the tempo of the verse
changed: the music began softly to play a Schumann Reverie to the
lines beginning: "But this triumphal cortege is not enough. The return
of the army demands another cortege,"--the triumph of the Mutiles--
the martyrs of the war who have given more than life to the defence
of France--the most glorious heroes of the war.

The picture the poet made of this "other cortege" moved the soldiers
strangely. The music, which blended wonderfully with Brochard's
beautiful voice, was hardly more than a breath, just audible, but
always there, and added greatly to the effect of the recitation. There
was a sigh in the silence which followed the last line--and an almost
whispered "bravo," before the long shouts of applause broke out.

It is the only number on any programme that has ever touched, even
remotely, on war. It came as a surprise--it had not been announced.
But the intense, rather painful, feeling which had swept over the
audience was instantly removed by a comic monologue, and I need
not tell you that these monologues,--intended to amuse the men from
the trenches and give them a hearty laugh,--are usually very La
Scala--that is to say--rosse. But I do love to hear the boys shout with
glee over them.

The scene in the narrow streets of Quincy after the show is very
picturesque. The road mounts a little to Moulignon, and to see the
blue-grey backs of the boys, quite filling the street between the grey
walls of the houses, as they go slowly back to their cantonnements,
makes a very pretty picture.

It does seem a far cry from this to war, doesn't it? Yet isn't it lucky to
know and to see that these boys can come out of such a battle as
Verdun in this condition? This spirit, you see, is the hope of the future.
You know, when you train any kind of a dog to fight, you put him
through all the hard paces and force him to them, without breaking
his spirit. It seems to me that is just what is being done to the men at
the front.

XXXVI

March 1, 1917

Well, I have been very busy for some