mind to become a teacher. Guillaume's widow had
decided to return to Marseille; Marie did not think
that the Simons would miss her. Eusebe had been
laid up with his back, and she, Marie, had hurried
across to rub him. Kahn had engaged a new appren-
tice, a young fellow who lived in a neighbouring
village, a consumptive with one lung already half
gone, but he managed to bicycle in every morning.
Anfos Was still refusing to speak. There had been a
really bad fight at la Tarasque —that great, hulking
Ravous had turned up again and when drunk had
seen fit to insult the Army: 'Vive le Marine!9 Ravous
had bawled; CA bas les sales poilus, et vive les Mar-
souinsP Elise had called in the other day and had
talked for an hour and a half about Goundran.
Christophe would lay such letters aside with a
sigh — words, just so many words that meant nothing.
They were part of a life that had ceased to exist for
him, a life that had once been familiar and to which he
longed fiercely to return: 'Lord, I want to get back,'
he would pray, and would know that his prayer held
a note of resentment, that the old inexplicable impulse
to escape from something intangible was heavy upon
him. Then shaking his head: cBut one cannot get
back — perhaps that is the tragedy of this world, or
the hope of this world, one must always go forward.'
§3
When, at length, he was detailed to the regimental
pioneers, the clouds of despondency lifted a little, for
now Christophe was working at his own trade, yet even
this brought him no lasting comfort. As aU that he
did must be done to one end, the simplest tasks would
often seem hateful. But thanks to the change he was
quartered with the Transport and could thus wander
in and out of the stables, and could stroke the warm,,
443