soon as they had gone, but we were obliged to stop them as we feared the
German doctor or commandant, who were often prowling about, might hear.
Losing so many patients made the work much lighter for the time being,
and about this time, too, several of the severely wounded men died. They
had suffered so frightfully that it was a great relief when they died
and were at rest. The curé of the parish church was so good to them,
never minding how many times a day he toiled up that long hill in the
blazing sunshine, if he could comfort some poor soul, or speed them on
their way fortified with the last rites of the Church.

One poor Breton soldier could not bear the thought of being buried
without a coffin--he spoke about it for days before he died, till Madame
D----, a lady living in the town to whom we owe countless acts of
kindness, promised that she would provide a coffin, so the poor lad died
quite happily and peacefully, and the coffin and a decent funeral were
provided in due course, though, of course, he was not able to have a
soldier's funeral. Some of these poor French soldiers were dreadfully
homesick--most of them were married, and some were fathers of families
who had to suddenly leave their peaceful occupations to come to the war.
Jules, a dapper little pastrycook with pink cheeks and bright black
eyes, had been making a batch of tarts when his summons had come. And he
was much better suited to making tarts than to fighting, poor little
man, for he was utterly unnerved by what he had gone through, and used
to have dreadful fits of crying and sobbing which it was very difficult
to stop.

Some of the others, and especially the Zouaves, one could not imagine in
any other profession than that of soldiering. How jolly and cheerful
they were, always making the best of everything, and when the German
patients had gone we really had time to nurse them and look after them