Between ourselves and the crowd it was "Long live Italy!" and "Long
live England!" Between the _poilus_ and the crowd it was "Long live
Italy!" and "Long live France!" But between the _poilus_ and ourselves
there were no signs of any desire that England or France might endure
another day. And yet the crowd couldn't suppose that we didn't like
each other, for the knowing looks which passed between the hilarious
_poilu_ and slowly smiling Thomas clearly indicated some strange and
intimate relation. The crowd just didn't know what to make of it all
and what exactly was between these odd strangers, who seemed to have
everything in common but nothing to say to each other. For ourselves,
I think it made us feel homesick, and the home which Thomas and I felt
sick for (if you can believe it of us) was a certain estaminet we know
of and a cup of caffy-o-lay. It was at this moment I first realised
that, as between England and France, there are no longer such things
as foreigners; either we've become French or they've become English,
or else the two of us have combined into a new mixture which hasn't
yet got a name to it.

I think, though one doesn't talk much out here about glorious
alliances, some deep feelings were being felt all round. Diversion was
ultimately provided by the arrival of an imposing figure in dark blue,
with a lot of gilt about him. The _poilu_ put him down as an Italian
cavalry officer, and expressed the further hope that Italy would
endure for ever. The Italian crowd took him for something English, but
not being able to judge whether he was greater or less than myself,
contented themselves with an attitude of non-committal reverence all
round. Thomas informed me that he was a French Staff Officer and
displayed no further interest. Though I cannot tell you what in the
name of goodness he was doing in those parts, he was in fact an