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were always laughing, several of them were
wounded, and not slightly, but they hobbled
about laughing just the same. They didn’t
speak a word of French, no more than this
one does in the church, but it was
extraordinary to see how they got on with the
children; they understood each other quite
well. Anatole also says he understood them,
but I am not so sure about that. He says he
had never had such a time in his life—they
always wanted shaving. They were here
over a Sunday, and lots of them came to
church, and the Curé delivered a special
sermon for them, and he said he had never
had a more sympathetic or responsive
congregation, although they evidently did not
understand a word he said. The others held
divine service on the Green; one of their
officers read a short sermon and all the men
sang a hymn and knelt for their prayers, and
I must say it was most impressive.”
“Did you look at this one’s face?” asked
the Doctor.
“Yes, yes . . . we all like the English over
here.”
As they came up to the Englishman
Anatole was just helping him to a glass of
wine, with some friendly remarks in an
unknown tongue constructed out of his previous
dealings with his friends les Anglais.
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