The sister asks us what we do as civilians. Reymond is a painter, to confess which somewhat worries the old dame. But Maxence is a landed proprietor, and Verrier a government official....
"I see you are respectable young men," she remarks. "And so I will fry you some potatoes."
"A good idea, but would you mind—though we don't insist on this—frying a pailful of them?"
"Very well, and for dinner I will stew a rabbit."
Excellent. We brush our coats and give ourselves a good wash with hot water. We spend the whole day in the neighbourhood of the stove, and taste the full delight of being warm and clean.
At twilight the ratayonne brings in an oil-lamp. What a nice pleasant thing an oil-lamp is! It immediately fills one with a sense of intimacy and quiet.
The old lady enters with a pot of boiling tea. She sets a bowl before each of us, brings small teaspoons and powdered sugar, and adds—
"The rabbit will be ready at half-past seven. It is a fine plump one."
We chat away. The war news is good.
"Everything seems to point to peace before long. The whole of Europe will be exhausted within three months from now."