"The war is finished for us, Cobusse, and we are lucky to get back----"
Cochin does not reply. He looks out the window and sees the station
crowded with people--they are all talking at once----
"Patachon, I see my wife and Hélène--Wave at them!"
"Where are they?"
They have seen him and begin waving their hands, at the same time
making signs for him to come down on the platform. Patachon shouts out
the window:
"We're coming!"
Cochin, very pale, leaves the coach, assisted by two nurses. He is
some steps in front of his wife, who is holding Hélène. He walks
ahead rapidly as if to take her in his arms, and then understands. He
stops--and falls back, sobbing on the shoulder of his friend----
"Come--come, my _pauv' vieux_, don't cry--what's this--you who never
cry!"
"Patachon--I can--I can never clasp her in my arms----"
PARIS.
_May_ 27, 1917.
"What a sad air you have--an infinite sadness----"
"I believe no longer in GOD, nor the love of a woman, nor in the
friendship of a friend----"
"You believe then, no longer in anything?----"
"Yes, in glory--posthumous----"
AT SEA, ABOARD THE CHICAGO.
_June_ 5, 1917.