Letters of a Soldier - 1914-1915 by Anonymous
page 71 of 143 (49%)
page 71 of 143 (49%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
took on a subtlety of nuances, a richness of variety essentially modern.
One moment I recalled the peculiar outer suburbs of Paris with their innumerable notes and their suppressed effects. But here there is more frankness and candour. Here everything was simply rose and blue against a pale grey ground. My driver, getting into difficulty with his horse, entrusted the whip to me to touch up the animal: I must have looked like a little mechanical toy. We passed by the Calvaries which keep guard over the Meuse villages, a few trees gathered round the cross. _November 24, 3.30_ (back from the march). I have just received a letter of the 16th and a card, and a dear letter of the 18th. These two last tell me of the arrival of my packet. How glad I am to hear that! For a moment I asked myself whether I was right to send you these impressions, but, between us two, life has never been and can never be anything but a perpetual investigation in the region of eternal truths, fervent attention to the truth each earthly spectacle presents. And so I do not regret sending you those little notes. My worst sufferings were during the rainy days of September. Those days are a bitter memory to every one. We slept interlocked, face against face, hands crossed, in a deluge of water and mud. It would be impossible to imagine our despair. |
|