"Thank you, my friend," she murmured.... "And if you wish to call me Carillonnette—do so."
"I do want to. And my name's Jack.... If you don't mind."
Her eyes were fixed on her donkey's ears.
"Djack," she repeated, musingly. "Jacques—Djack—it's the same, isn't it—Djack?"
He turned red and she laughed at him, no longer afraid.
"Listen, my friend," she said, "it is très beau—what have you done."
"Vooz êtes tray belle——"
"Non! Please stop! It is not a question of me——"
"Vooz êtes tray chick——"
"Stop, Djack! That is not good manners! No! I was merely saying that—you have done something very nice. Which is quite true. You heard rumours that Nivelle had become unsafe. People whispered last evening—something about the danger of a salient being cut at its base.... I heard the gossip in the street. Was that why you came after me?"