The wounded in due time are cared for and taken back----
THE MAGPIE "ANATOLE," MALANCOURT WOOD. _July_ 8, 1915.
"What a luncheon, major! It is too much--too much, a thousand times too much. You dine well in Malancourt Wood! Hors d'oeuvres, roast chicken, chops. What a remarkable chef!"
"I agree with you--he is the former chef of the _Lysistrata_, the yacht belonging to Mr. James Gordon Bennett, himself!"
So saying, Major Jouanic filled his goblet with champagne to the brim. We are less than fifteen minutes from the first line and the weather is marvelous----
"Dessert is ready, Ducoux, you can bring in Anatole."
Ducoux got up and left table. He came back soon with Anatole on his finger, a young magpie who already had the air of an old maid----
Anatole is not well brought up--she is a little noisy. When one speaks to her of _Madame Colette_[9] she gives herself up to comic contortions, and what a sight!
She drinks greedily of champagne out of the guest's glass and becomes shamefully drunk!
Now she staggers around the table, making insufferable cries. She inclines her head, staring at us with one eye----
"You shame us, Anatole. Be quiet and let us hear no more from you."
Anatole flutters over, seeking refuge on Ducoux's shoulder, whom she likes best, and goes to sleep----
A WALK IN THE FOREST, MALANCOURT WOOD. _July_ 8, 1915.
This afternoon we have gone to inspect the sector. We arrived before the _Poilu_ Cemetery----
The sun shoots great streaks of light through the trees and the spot appears to us like a mighty, luminous temple----
No one near the graves to weep and pray, and the souls of the dead untroubled----
THE WAY OF THE TEUTON, MALANCOURT WOOD. _July_ 8, 1915.
We went this afternoon to see one of our friends, a lieutenant of infantry, in the neighboring sector.
Bringing along a bottle of champagne, we drank it with him at the listening post, twenty-five yards from the enemy.
Naturally the empty bottle was hurled by a skillful hand into the trench of our neighbors in front----
The reply was not long in coming: three 77's which, by the gods, were placed well enough, but which, luckily, did no damage.
These imbecile boches always lack the proper spirit.
[8] St. Menehoulde is the center of the "pigs' feet" industry.--Tr.