“Madame Ladoucette, if you could have seen that!”

But we had to be on the qui vive.  The German attack had been checked, but it might be renewed.

We were fully alive to the courage and tenacity of our enemies.

I could distinguish nothing ahead in the increasingly thick white fog.  All I could hear was the sound of pickaxes on the ground and the thud of falling clods.  The enemy had, no doubt, decided not to attack again and were digging new trenches.  They no longer uttered their contemptuous guttural cries of “Cavalry!  Cavalry!” They had learnt to their cost that these French cavalrymen, at the sight of whom their own are so ready to turn back, could hold their own equally well against German infantry.  I thought we might count on a little respite.  The battlefield was silent, save for the faint cries occasionally uttered by the wounded.

I hastily detached two troopers to man the listening-posts, and they slipped away silently.  Then, as our Captain had unfortunately been summoned to Elverdinghe that day on special duty, I went to look for the Major to make my report to him.  My men had seated themselves on the rough ledges cut in the slope of the trench, their carbines between their knees, and were talking together in low tones.  As I passed a friendly smile lit up their faces.  I walked slowly along the narrow trench, careful not to tread on the feet of the talkers.

As I approached a point where the trench, following the direction of the wood, formed an abrupt angle, I heard two familiar voices exchanging the following words: 

        “Fifty-two!...  Tierce major...; three aces!”
        “Capital!”

This was really the limit!  I turned the corner and came upon Major B. and F. seated on the ledge, quietly playing cards by the brilliant moonlight.  As their tiny retreat could not accommodate four players, they were solacing themselves with a game of piquet.

Oh, all you who are of necessity far from the scene of conflict, good Frenchmen and valiant Frenchwomen, how I should have liked you to see this picture!  No doubt you often wonder whether those who are defending your homes against the accursed invader will be able to bear the sufferings of this war to the bitter end; you fear that they may be losing their good humour and their dashing spirits; you imagine them brooding with careworn faces and anxious souls when, the excitement of the encounter dying down, they think of what the morrow may bring forth.  How I wish you could have seen Major B. and the gallant Lieutenant F. playing piquet in the trench where they had just repulsed a furious German attack, which might have been renewed at any moment!