myself that
this star meant, for those poor creatures on the other side, that they
could take the direction of safety. I felt less angry about it then. The
sign had given me so much joy as a star that I decided to stick to my
first impression.

_December 30._

Your Christmas letter came last night. Perhaps in this very hour when I
am writing to you, mine of the same day is reaching you. At that time,
in spite of the risk, I was enjoying all the beauty, but to-day I
confess it is poisoned for me by what we hear of the last slaughter.

On the 26th we were made to remain on duty, in positions occupied only
at night as a rule. Our purely defensive position was lucky that day,
for we were exposed only to slight artillery fire; but on our right a
regiment of our division, in one of the terrible emplacements of
October 14th, received an awful punishment, of which the inconclusive
result cost several hundred lives. Here in our great village, where our
kind hostess knew, as we did, the victims, all is sadness.

_Same day._

. . . Nothing attacks the soul. The torture can certainly be very great,
especially the apprehension, but questions coming from the distance can
be silenced by acceptation of what is close. The weather is sweet and
soft, and Nature is indifferent. The dead will not spoil the spring. . . .

And then, once the horror of the moment is over, when one sees its place
taken by only the memory of those who have gone, there is a kind of
sweetness in the thought of what _really exists_. In these solemn woods
one realises the inanity of sepulchres and the pomp of funerals. The
souls of the brave have no need of all that. . . .

_4 o'clock._

I have just finished the fourth portrait, a lieutenant in my company. He
is delighted. Daylight fades. I send you my thoughts, full of
cheerfulness. Hope and wisdom.

_January 3, 1915._

. . . Yesterday, after the first satisfaction of finding myself freed
from manual work, I contemplated my stripes, and I felt some
humiliation, because instead of the great anonymous superiority of the
ordinary soldier which had put me beyond all military valuation, I had
now the distinction of being a low number in military rank!

But then I felt that each time I looked at my little bits of red wool I
should remember my social duty, a duty which my leaning towards
individualism makes me forget only too often. So I knew I was still free
to cultivate my soul, having this final