Finally I saw two of them coming, dripping with sweat, puffing, their eyes bulging, equipped naturally with their packs and with warm winter clothing for the approaching winter campaign. At last they arrived. Letting the box with the adjustable handles fall brutally, they cried in unison as if compensated for the load: "_Nom de Dieu de tous les noms de Dieu_, I hope this damned box with its dirty handles bursts in the inventor's stomach!" A SHELL IN MY HOME, NIEUPORT. _August_, 1915. I am just about to start writing in my room, when suddenly, a boche shell explodes some place in the house. A loud detonation--smoke--shell fragments and debris strike around me--a little dust on my uniform--that's all---- A horrible cry comes from the ground floor--I descend in jumps---- Our corporal-secretary lies in a pool of blood, gravely wounded in the thigh. The "little fellow," shod in his sandals which he never has off, is already at his side. He believed it was I that was struck. With him I carry the wounded corporal into the kitchen where Simyan, the king of cooks and cowards, turns white with fear on seeing us enter---- AN IDEA OF JEAN GOUIN,[12] BEFORE ST. GEORGES. _August_, 1915. Just now Reymond and I are sharing breakfast in a first-line trench---- [Illustration: Richard in the midst of his comrades.] A Marine Fusilier conceived the drôle idea of unscrewing from one of the abandoned coaches in Nieuport one of these little notices that the railroad company places under each window to warn travelers of the dangers of poking their heads out. The little enameled sign had been nailed by him on a plank in one of the first-line traverses, where one could read, with profit, this notice: "It is dangerous to stick your head out here!" RICHARD'S GOD-MOTHER, ON THE YSER. _August_, 1915. "Listen, Richard, a pretty marquise has requested that I find her a god-son! Do you want to be elected? "You are a husky lad like all the Marine Fusiliers, your behavior was good at Steenstraat, you are also good-looking, in short you have all the required attributes that go to make up a perfect god-son." "With pleasure, lieutenant, thanks----" "In that case I will take your photograph immediately, in the midst of your comrades, so that I can send one to your god-mother. She will be carried away! I forgot to tell you that the Marquise de R---- is charming and you will be spoiled as no one else----" Some days after I sent Richard the picture which he slipped in a letter addressed to his god-mother--a very nice letter and well written. A few days later the young chap told me that he was going on his vacation. "Don't fail, Richard, to call on your god-mother," I cautioned, adding with a smile, "and don't forget to kiss her for me." It was only a short while before I received the following letter from the Marquise de R----: