I went to her.
She said, "You see, I am minding the babies."
She said that just because one had to say something and not cry.
We went away quickly.
Wide misty fields under another red war sunset. I thought, how one felt war in the sunset.
As we went, dusk came, gathering, deepening, very soft and kind. The fields and sky were darkly blue. There was a clear edge of the world, between the fields and the sky. And over the edge of the world there was a slim little new white moon.
There was a small clear singing of field birds in the dusk, and there were bats abroad, and swallows.
Friday, July 31st
The beggars came as usual to the château for their Friday morning sous. There were the usual dozen of them; old men, and women with babies, and old women, and Margotte, the girl who was innocente, with her nodding head and hands that would never keep still. They came out of their holes in the marble quarries, and from nobody knew quite where, according to their long custom. All that was just as usual. But they were not as usual.