My brother's little girls are playing peacefully at our side. Like them, we are calm. Not for a moment are we afraid. Without saying a word to each other, we seem to think the same thoughts, and we remain at our post until evening, with full confidence. But our emotion is very great.
To what merciful providence do we owe our certainty that the enemy will not reach us, and the tranquillity with which we await the end of this tragedy? I confess that I do not understand.
One by one the stars break through the veil of darkness that comes down gently upon us. Now myriads of stars are shining in the heavens.
It is eleven o'clock. Houses are in flames, and forests. Here and there in the distance camp-fires are burning and trench-rockets burst in showers, making the valley seem like a great fiery furnace, an ocean of flame.
How insignificant are our own troubles in the presence of these heaped up ruins, this destruction of men and things!
On the highest tree of the Aulnois woods I have just seen a little light, square in shape, which alternately appears and disappears.
X
6 September, 1914.