We have had to change again, as the reinforcements are arriving in such numbers that our places are wanted; and it is always our regiment that has to turn out.

But to-day all is freshness and light.  The great rich plain that is edged by the Meuse uplands has its distance all invested in the tenderest silver tones.

I am pleased with Gabrielle’s letter; it shows me what things will be laid upon the heart of France when these events are at an end.  A touching letter from Pierre, cured at last of his terrible wound.  A splendid letter from Grandmother.  How she longs for our meeting again!  I cannot speak of it.

* * * * *

I finish this letter by the waterside, recalling with delight the joys I used to have in painting.  Before me are the sparkling rays of spring.

April 3 (post-card).

Only a word from the second line.  We are in the spring woods.  Sun and rain at play in the sky.  Courage through all.

April 3 (2nd letter).

I wish I had written you better letters in these days, every minute of which has been sweet to me, even when we were in the front line.  But I confess that I was satisfied just to let myself live in the beauty of the days, serene days in spite of the clamours of war.  We know nothing of what is to happen.  But there is more movement—­coming and going.  Shall we have to bear the shock again?

Think what it was for us when we were last in the front line, to have to spend whole days in the dug-out that the odious bombardment had compelled us to hollow out of the hillside ten metres deep.  There, in complete darkness, night was awaited for the chance to get out.  But once my fellow non-commissioned officers and I began humming the nine symphonies of Beethoven.  I cannot tell what thrill woke those notes within us.  They seemed to kindle great lights in the cave.  We forgot the Chinese torture of being unable to lie, or sit, or stand.

The life of a sergeant in billets is really quite pleasant.  But I take no advantage.  As to the front, I hope Providence will give me strength of heart to do my duty there to the very end.  A good friend of mine, who was my section-chief, has been appointed adjutant to our company.  This is all trivial enough; but, dearest, I am in a rather feeble state; I was not well after the events of last month.  So I let myself glide over the gentle slopes of my life.  Suppose one comes to skirt a precipice?  May Providence keep us away from the edge!

April 4.

DARLING MOTHER,—­A time of anxious waiting, big with the menace of near things.  Meanwhile, however, idleness and quiet.  I am not able to think, and I give myself up to my fate.  Beloved, don’t find fault with me if for a month past I have been below the mark.  Love me, and tell our friends to love me.

Did you get my photograph?  It was taken at the fortunate time of our position here, when we were having peaceful days, with no immediate enemy except the cold.  A few days later I was made corporal, and my life became hard enough, burdened with very ungrateful labours.  After that, the storm; and the lights of that storm are still bright in my life.