Notwithstanding his horrible wounds, Bon did not lose
consciousness; he was able to stammer out a few words and to
press the hand which the captain gave him. In less than two
minutes all was over."

And the captain adds:

"Always ready to sacrifice himself; a brave among the
brave."

These are modest and yet glorious details: modest because they are so
very common, because they are constantly being repeated in their noble
monotony and springing up from every side, numberless as the essential
actions of our daily life; and glorious because before this war they
seemed so rare and almost legendary and incomprehensible.


3

Raymond Bon was a child of the south, of that Provence which, day
after day, is shedding torrents of its blood to wipe out slanders
which we can no longer remember without turning pale with anger and
indignation. He was born at Avignon, the old city of the Popes and the
cicadas, where men have louder accents and lighter hearts than
elsewhere. He was a little boxing-master, who earned a livelihood at
Nice for himself and his destitute parents by giving lessons in the
noble art of self-defence with the good, ever-ready weapons which
nature has bestowed upon us. He boasted no other education than that
which a lad picks up at the primary school; but, almost illiterate as
he was, he possessed all the refinement, the innate culture, the