'Ah, the dear brave fellows, so handsome, so
young!* Mere .Melanie choking with emotion by
now, and repulsing her anxious little violinist.

Eusebe peering up into Christophers face and
harking back to his thoughts of the morning: 'Many
years have I; known you, mais oui, many years. I
remember the day when you were baptized . . .' But
the train will not wait for old Eusebe, and others have
just as much right to a word:

'Bonne chance! bonne chance!'

'Take care of yourself and come back soon!'

Then Goundran's gruff voice: 'But naturally he
will be coming back soon. Dieu! have I not said that
the war is over?5

Le tout petit Loup as red as a beetroot:
'Christophe!'

And suddenly he is blubbering. One tear for
Christophe and ten for himself; yes, but actually
blubbering, le tout petit Loup, and in public, for all
his fine scholarly brains that are destined to get him
quite soon to Paris. Ai! las, Ai! las, le pauvre tout
petit Loup — ten tears for himself but at least one for
Christophe.

Marie dry-eyed and dazed in the arms of her son;
his lips on her cheek, and his arms so strong that they
hurt her. But how has this come to pass? A short
time ago and her son was a baby. His arms are not
there any more. He is gone. She can see his face
close to Jan's for a moment, then those unknown
faces are crowding between.

'Bonne chance! Bonne chance!'

'Do not stay away long!'

The train has begun to move out of the station.

Over the waste land that led to the line beyond
the platform, someone was running —a man with
467