I could have struck him on his impudent mouth, but for her sake I
judged it advisable to notice nothing.

I feel I could go on writing about her all night, but it is nearly 2
a.m. I must get some sleep.

The guns rumble steadily in the south-west, and the sky is lit by their
flashes; may the fighting on the Somme be bloody these coming days.




[_Probably about ten days later.--Etienne._]


We leave to-night, having had a longer spell than usual. I am in a
distracted state of mind. Since our glorious day in the forest I have
seen her nearly every afternoon, though twice that swine Alten has kept
me in the boat in connection with some replacements of the battery.

I have found out that, like me, she is intensely musical. She plays
beautifully on the piano, and we had long hours together playing Chopin
and Beethoven; we also played some of Moussorgsky's duets, but I love
her best when she plays Chopin, the composer pre-eminent of love and
passion.

She has masses of music, as the Colonel gives her what she likes. We
also played a lot of Debussy. At first I demurred at playing a living
French composer's works, but she pouted and looked so adorable that all