Work is finished for the day!
THE MAGPIE "ANATOLE," MALANCOURT WOOD.
_July_ 8, 1915.
"What a luncheon, major! It is too much--too much, a thousand times too
much. You dine well in Malancourt Wood! Hors d'oeuvres, roast chicken,
chops. What a remarkable chef!"
"I agree with you--he is the former chef of the _Lysistrata_, the yacht
belonging to Mr. James Gordon Bennett, himself!"
So saying, Major Jouanic filled his goblet with champagne to the brim.
We are less than fifteen minutes from the first line and the weather is
marvelous----
"Dessert is ready, Ducoux, you can bring in Anatole."
Ducoux got up and left table. He came back soon with Anatole on his
finger, a young magpie who already had the air of an old maid----
Anatole is not well brought up--she is a little noisy. When one
speaks to her of _Madame Colette_[9] she gives herself up to comic
contortions, and what a sight!
She drinks greedily of champagne out of the guest's glass and becomes
shamefully drunk!
Now she staggers around the table, making insufferable cries. She
inclines her head, staring at us with one eye----
"You shame us, Anatole. Be quiet and let us hear no more from you."
Anatole flutters over, seeking refuge on Ducoux's shoulder, whom she
likes best, and goes to sleep----
A WALK IN THE FOREST, MALANCOURT WOOD.
_July_ 8, 1915.
This afternoon we have gone to inspect the sector. We arrived before
the _Poilu_ Cemetery----
The sun shoots great streaks of light through the trees and the spot
appears to us like a mighty, luminous temple----
No one near the graves to weep and pray, and the souls of the dead
untroubled----
THE WAY OF THE TEUTON, MALANCOURT WOOD.
_July_ 8, 1915.
We went this afternoon to see one of our friends, a lieutenant of
infantry, in the neighboring sector.
Bringing along a bottle of champagne, we drank it with him at the
listening post, twenty-five yards from the enemy.
Naturally the empty bottle was hurled by a skillful hand into the
trench of our neighbors in front----
The reply was not long in coming: three 77's which, by the gods, were
placed well enough, but which, luckily, did no damage.
These imbecile boches always lack the proper spirit.