Then we begin to discuss matters. Since all six of us are bound by the ties of true friendship, there is nothing upon which we are of one mind: Varlet, a working electrician, who has often found it difficult to make ends meet, considers that everything is not for the best in the best of all societies. Maxence, with a stake in the land, regards Varlet as a dangerous customer. Jacquard, who is in the hosiery business, is a well-balanced individual, very optimistic, who reads between the lines of every dispatch the coming entry of the Russians into Berlin, and the complete exhaustion of Germany. Verrier is a moderate and restrained sort of fellow. He says: "I am just going to sleep a little," or "eat a little," or "wash myself a little." Always "a little." We call him: "not too much," or sometimes Verrierus tristis, the silent. He forms an interesting contrast to the exuberant Reymond.
Mother Achain and her little daughter, their heads enveloped in black kerchiefs and their hands clasped on their knees, smile quietly as they watch us bawl and gesticulate. Father Achain, in the darkest recess of the room, between fireplace and bed, is everlastingly drawing away at a pipe that has gone out. From time to time he walks to the door and stands there for a while. On returning, he says—
"There's some heavy firing going on above the Gué-Brûlé."
Saturday, 12th December.
Bad news from Russia....
At six in the evening we return to the trenches. Whilst marching along, our company crosses some light infantry.
"Hullo!" they say, "here come the foot-soldiers."
And what scorn they would convey by the word "foot-soldiers!"
Well, and what are they themselves, after all?
Sunday, 13th December.