THE MARQUIS AND THE MARCHIONESS, NETTANCOURT.
_November_, 1916.
We had gone to take a turn around Avocourt Hill; the air was
magnificent. We were 7,000 feet high directly above the spot we were
going to land----
The major stopped his motor and commenced to descend in circles; I
recognized the château, the village, the station----
On a road in the fields, a man, a woman, and a dog--even at this
altitude it was impossible not to know them, the three characteristic
specimens of a bygone age, more fanciful than Nature herself!
I pointed my finger toward the ground so that Major Armengaud might see
them also. He looked and likewise began to laugh----
I swear, it was _drôle_: like three big flies jigging on the bald head
of an old man!----
THE MAN WHO KNOWS THE SECTOR BETTER
THAN ANYONE, AINES.
_December_ 1, 1916.
I am not sure of the road. It is night and as we are close to the lines
I stop the machine----