I don't know; I thought it was friendship. And that was so wonderful to me that I never dreamed any other miracle possible!
Allons, my Djack. Come and instruct me quickly, [pg 277]because my desire for further knowledge is very ardent.
The news? Cher ami, there is little. Always the far thunder beyond Nivelle in ruins; sometimes a battle-plane high in the blue; a convoy of your beloved mules arriving from the coast; nothing more exciting.
Monsieur Smeet and Monsieur Glenn inquire always concerning you. They are brave and kind; their odd jests amuse me.
My father caught a tench in the Lesse this morning.
My gardener, Karl, collected many unpleasant creatures while hoeing our potatoes. Poor lad, he seems unhealthy. I am glad I could offer him employment.
My Djack, there could not possibly be any mistake about him, could there? His papers are en règle. He is what he pretends, a Belgian student from Ypres in distress and ill health, is he not?
But how can you answer me, you who lie there all alone in a hospital at Nice? Also, I am ashamed of myself for doubting the unfortunate young man. I am too happy to doubt anybody, perhaps.
And so good night, my Djack. Sleep sweetly, guarded by powerful angels.
Thy devoted,