his fault for smelling so
vilely. He did not raise any disturbance, nor make any complaint, on
certain days when he seemed to be neglected. Any extra discomfort that
he was obliged to bear, he bore stoically. Altogether, after some four
months of this, it was discovered that Grammont had rather a remarkable
character, a character which merited some sort of recognition. He seemed
to have rather heroic qualities of endurance, of bravery, of discipline.
Nor were they the heroic qualities that suddenly develop in a moment of
exaltation, but on the contrary, they were developed by months of
extreme agony, of extreme bodily pain. He could have been so
disagreeable, had he chosen. And as he cared so little to have his life
saved, his goodness could not have been due to that. It seemed that he
was merely very decent, very considerate of others, and wanted to give
as little trouble as he could, no matter what took place. Only he got
thinner and weaker, and more and more gentle, and at last after five
months of this, the _Directrice_ was touched by his conduct and
suggested that here was a case of heroism as well worthy of the _Croix
de Guerre_ as were the more spectacular movements on the battlefield. It
took a few weeks longer, of gentle suggestion on her part, to convey
this impression to the General, but at last the General entered into
correspondence with the officers of the regiment to which Grammont
belonged, and it then transpired that as a soldier Grammont had
displayed the same qualities of consideration for others and of
discipline, that he was now displaying in a hospital bed. Finally one
day, the news came that Grammont was to be decorated. Everyone else in
the ward, who deserved it, had been decorated long ago, naturally, for
they had not belonged to the _Bataillon d'Afrique_. Their services had
been recognized long ago. Now, however, after these many months of
suffering, Grammont was to receive the _Croix de Guerre_. He was nearly
dead by this time. When told the news, he smiled faintly. He did not
seem to care. It seemed to make very little impression upon him. Yet it
should have made an impression, for he was a convicted criminal, and it
was a condescension that he should be so honoured at all. He had somehow
won this honour, this token of forgiveness, by suffering so long, so
uncomplainingly. However, a long delay took place, although finally his
papers came, his citation, in which he was cited in the orders of t