"Yes, corporal."
"How many Germans have you killed?"
I saw a haze of anger pass over the eyes of this young chap who regarded me with a fixed look.
"Just one! I hate the Germans, I swear it, but I tremble to think what I have done—yes, I killed him dead enough!
"Voilà! I am a gardener by trade. I live in the Luxembourg. The garden of my masters—it is all my life. Why has this accursed war broken out? Can they no longer stay at home, the pigs?
"Then I was called and you know the rest, because I will not speak of the first days of the campaign.
"But, voilà! one night we made an ambuscade on a farm in the outskirts of Vilvorde. It was dark. They told us the Germans would possibly attempt a reconnaissance in the village and it was necessary to open their eyes.
"We were placed in a house closer to the enemy lines than the others and it was forbidden to enter the street. Some of my comrades were hidden above on the second floor, but I was hiding back of the front stairs and observed the entrance-way.
"My nerves were overexcited by this long wait. A single ray of the moon wandered over the ground above the gate; it recalled one of my ambushes for flower poachers.