La Mort d'un Civil
The old Monsieur is dying. He has been dying for days and days and days. He is dying at a time when death is very cheap. Every one is dying. The youth of the whole world is being taken away. What does it matter at all that an old man, who has no part in the war, is taken away? Who, except his elderly maiden daughter, has time to care?
Cousine Gertrude is very kind. She comes every evening, after the hospital, and stays for two hours, sitting in the room, knitting grey socks, while his daughter rests a little.
Her boy François, aged twenty-one, went out on the first day. He has been all the time in the trenches, except for one leave of six days. He is in the trenches now, in Champagne.
The man dying here has everything that is possible done for him. He has the best that can be had of doctors and nurses.
These boys in the trenches one dares not think of how it may be with them.
His daughter is very brave. She never cries. She remembers that Cousine Gertrude would like a cup of tea.
She knows that the son of Cousine Gertrude is young and beautiful.
Death, in these days, is young and beautiful.