rn of the battalion. It was all
very quiet, little was to be heard save the gnawing of the rats in the
corner of the barn and the muffled booming of guns from "out
there"--"out there" is the oft repeated phrase that denotes the
locality of the firing line.

There was sunlight and shade in the farmyard, the sun lit up the pump
on the top of which a little bird with salmon-pink breast,
white-tipped tail, and crimson head preened its feathers; in the shade
where our barn and the stables form an angle an old lady in snowy
sunbonnet and striped apron was sitting knitting. It was good to be
there lying prone upon the barn straw near the door above the crazy
ladder, writing letters. I had learned to love this place and these
people whom I seem to know so very well from having read Rene Bazin,
Daudet, Maupassant, Balzac and Marie Claire. High up and far away to
the west a Zeppelin was to be seen travelling in a westerly direction;
the farmer's wife, our landlady, had just rescued a tin of bully beef
from one of her all-devouring pigs; at the barn door lay my recently
cleaned rifle and ordered equipment--how incongruous it all was (p. 038)
with the home of Marie Claire.

Suddenly I was brought back to realities by the recollection that the
battalion was to have a bath that afternoon and towels and soap must
be ready to take out on the next parade.

The next morning was beautifully clear; the sun rising over the firing
line lit up wood and field, river and pond. The hens were noisy in the
farmyard, the horse lines to the rear were full of movement, horses
strained at their tethers eager to break away and get free from the
captivity of the rope; the grooms were busy brushing the animals' legs
and flanks, and a slight dust arose into the air as the work was
carried on.

Over the red-brick houses of the village the church stood high, its
spire clearly defined against the blue of the sky. The door of the
_cafe_ across the road opened, and the proprietress, a merry-faced,
elderly woman, came across to the farmhouse. She purchased some newly
laid eggs for breakfast, and entered into conversation with our men,
some of whom knew a little of her language. They asked about her son
in the trenches; she had heard from him the day before and he was (p. 039)
quite well and hoped to have a holiday very soon. He would come home
then and spend a fortnight with the family. She looked forward to his
coming, he had been away from her ever s