For the first time in the campaign I felt a kind of poignant melancholy.  For the first time I felt small and miserable, almost a useless thing, compared with those two fine priestly figures who were praying in the solitude of this country church for those who had fallen and were falling yonder under shot and shell.

How I despised and upbraided myself at such moments!  What a profound disgust I felt for the follies of my garrison life, its gross pleasures and silly excesses!  I was ashamed of myself when I reflected that death brushed by me every day, and that I might disappear to-day or to-morrow, after so many ill-spent and unprofitable days.

Without any effort, and almost in spite of myself, pious words came back to my lips—­those words that my dear mother used to teach me on her knee years and years ago.  And I felt a quiet delight in the almost forgotten words that came back to me: 

“Forgive us our trespasses....  Pray for us, poor sinners....”

It seemed to me that I should presently go away a better man and a more valiant soldier.  And, as though to encourage and bless me, a faint ray of sunshine came through the window.

"Ite, missa est...." The priest turned round; and this time I thought his eyes rested upon me, and that the look was a benediction and an absolution.

But suddenly I heard in the alley close by a great noise of people running and horses stamping, and a voice crying: 

“Mount horses!...  Mount horses!”

I was sorry to leave the little church of Pevy; I should so much have liked to wait until those two priests came out, to speak to them, and talk about other things than war, massacres and pillage.  But duty called me to my men, my horses, and to battle.

Shortly afterwards, as I passed at the head of my troop in front of the large farm where the ambulance of the division was quartered, I saw my abbe coming out of a barn, with his sleeves tucked up and his kepi on the side of his head.  He was carrying a large pail of milk.  I recognised his clear look, and had no doubt that he recognised me too, for as our eyes met he gave me a kindly smile.

My heart was lighter as I went forward, and my soul was calmer.

* * * * *

For the last six days we had been quartered at Montigny-sur-Vesle, a pretty little village half-way up a hillside on the heights, 20 kilometres to the west of Reims.  There we enjoyed a little rest for the first time in the campaign.  On our front the struggle was going on between the French and German trenches, and the employment of cavalry was impossible.  All the regiment had to do was to supply daily two troops required to ensure the connection between the two divisions of the army corps.

What a happiness it was to be able at last to enjoy almost perfect rest!  What a delight to lie down every evening in a good bed; not to get up before seven o’clock; to find our poor horses stabled at last on good litter in the barns, and to see them filling out daily and getting sleeker!