"I shall teach you.... Thank you so much.... Thank you so much."
She added a few large daisies to the red roses in his hand.
"These will bring you love.... But another time I shall teach you the language of flowers, the language of love."
She curtseyed again, and began making her way jerkily down the sidewalk, jingling his silver in her hand.
He stuck the roses and daisies in the belt of his uniform and sat with the green flame of Chartreuse in a little glass before him, staring into the gardens, where the foliage was becoming blue and lavender with evening, and the shadows darkened to grey-purple and black. Now and then he glanced furtively, with shame, at the man at the next table. When the restaurant closed he wandered through the unlighted streets towards the river, listening to the laughs and conversations that bubbled like the sparkle in Burgundy through the purple summer night.
But wherever he looked in the comradely faces of young men, in the beckoning eyes of women, he saw the brown hurt eyes of the soldier, and the triangular black patch where the nose should have been.
CHAPTER III
At Epernay the station was wrecked; the corrugated tin of the roof hung in strips over the crumbled brick walls.
"They say the Boches came over last night. They killed a lot of permissionaires."