suffering oneness. How atrocious then to add to
God's pain, to add to God's wounds —God Who
could not die.
Christophe suddenly dropped his head on his arms:
'No, I cannot add to Your wounds/ he muttered.
Then someone spoke, and he knew that voice.
Whose voice was it? Perhaps he himself was speaking:
'You must keep beside Jan for a little while, Chris-
tophe, until. . . .* The words blurred and drifted
away, as though they were being drawn back into
distance.
* * *
The next morning Jan came in search of his cousin.
He said: 'This afternoon I enlist. I have told the
Cure. As for my mother she has not dared to refuse
her consent. Are you coming?'
'Yes, I am coming,' replied Christophe.
Two days later they found themselves in the train
on their way to the infantry barracks at Toulon.
§4
It was not very long after this that Loup appeared
in a clean cotton shirt at breakfast, although it was
only the middle of the week and his linen should not
have been changed until Sunday. Moreover he was
wearing his Sunday suit, and a pair of shoes that
Marie had bought him second-hand — they were
rather ridiculous shoes made of cheap patent leather,
but Loup had admired them. His nails were well
scrubbed, and his hair well pomaded with something
that smelt of vanilla and lamp-oil. His flashy striped
necktie was obviously new and sported an elegant
bijou-fix scarfpin.
Marie glanced up from the table with dull eyes:
'Are you going to church, my son?' she asked him.
Then, collecting her thoughts with an effort, cNo, no,
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