underwoods, and in it a clear spring gurgling among the ferns and
mosses. Around the opening grew wild gooseberries and golden broom and
a few tall spires of purple foxglove. He drew off his dusty boots and
socks and bathed his feet in a small pool, drying them with fern
leaves. Then he took a slice of bread and a piece of cheese from his
pocket and made his breakfast. Going to the edge of the thicket, he
parted the branches and peered out over the vale.

Its eaves sloped gently to the level floor where the river loitered in
loops and curves. The sun was just topping the eastern hills; the heads
of the trees were dark against a primrose sky.

In the fields the hay had been cut and gathered. The aftermath was
already greening the moist places. Cattle and sheep sauntered out to
pasture. A thin silvery mist floated here and there, spreading in broad
sheets over the wet ground and shredding into filmy scarves and ribbons
as the breeze caught it among the pollard willows and poplars on the
border of the stream. Far away the water glittered where the river made
a sudden bend or a long smooth reach. It was like the flashing of
distant shields. Overhead a few white clouds climbed up from the north.
The rolling ridges, one after another, infolded the valley as far as
eye could see; pale green set in dark green, with here and there an arm
of forest running down on a sharp promontory to meet and turn the
meandering stream.

"It must be the valley of the Meuse," said the soldier. "My faith, but
France is beautiful and tranquil here!"

The northerly wind was rising. The clouds climbed more swiftly. The
poplars shimmered, the willows glistened, the veils of mist vanished.