"You shame us, Anatole. Be quiet and let us hear no more from you."
Anatole flutters over, seeking refuge on Ducoux's shoulder, whom she likes best, and goes to sleep——
A WALK IN THE FOREST, MALANCOURT WOOD.
July 8, 1915.
This afternoon we have gone to inspect the sector. We arrived before the Poilu Cemetery——
The sun shoots great streaks of light through the trees and the spot appears to us like a mighty, luminous temple——
No one near the graves to weep and pray, and the souls of the dead untroubled——
THE WAY OF THE TEUTON, MALANCOURT WOOD.
July 8, 1915.
We went this afternoon to see one of our friends, a lieutenant of infantry, in the neighboring sector.
Bringing along a bottle of champagne, we drank it with him at the listening post, twenty-five yards from the enemy.