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do it either, so I had to do it. As I took
hold of the rifle the Boche grabbed at it, and
we saw he was still alive. He had been
shot through the chest the same instant
he thrust his bayonet through poor Jean.
The Doctor said the bullet had pierced both
his lungs near the heart, and that he had lost
so much blood that it was a marvel he was
still alive. Both the Curé and the Doctor
said it was not right or Christian to leave him
there, so we were made to carry him down first,
and when Pierre and I came back for Jean
they had already buried him. I shall never
dare to tell Josephine the truth, for she will
never forgive me.”
“Listen, Anatole,” said the Doctor. “I
see you are all right again and don’t mind
sitting alone for a few minutes. I just want
to go outside the porch for a moment and
smoke a cigarette. You remain sitting
where you are and call me at once if
somebody wants me.”
He went out of the church and stood for a
long while in the middle of the chaussée.
He felt as if he could not understand, would
not understand, and as if he wanted to ask
for an explanation. He looked up to the
stars that had explained to him so many
riddles, but their cold glitter flashed no
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