Such are the declarations I do not hesitate to utter. The rest nod their heads in approval. Verrier, however, is by nature an enemy to all joy, and so he adds—
"Then you were making a fool of me when you told me at Fontenoy that the war would last a couple of years! What true prophets you are!"
A great roar of laughter silences him.
"Better prophesy," says another, "the possible departure of the 352nd for a town in the centre. This is looked upon as certain, and it would suit me splendidly."
"If only we could get away from the roar of the guns for a fortnight!"
"Don't be too full of self-pity; life is worth living to-night, at all events."
And indeed our refuge seems the very abode of peace and quiet.
The door opens noisily, and Varlet, a short, bearded man, smoking a thick pipe, shouts out—
"We are going back to the trenches."