They are bathed in smiles that keep breaking over their lips and eyes like sun-kissed breakers on a summer strand, and everything they say ends in a broken laugh. And then we go into dinner, and they make me dine with them, and they order red wine, and make me have some, and I cease to be a stranger, I become an old friend, intermingling with that glorious happiness which seems to be mine as well as theirs because they are lovers and love all the world. The old mother whispers to me softly when she got a chance: "He will be so pleased when he knows! There's a little one coming." "Oh, wonderful little one!" I whisper back. She understands and nods between tears and smiles again, while the two divine ones sit gazing at the paradise in each other's eyes. And through it all, all the time, goes on the hungry growl of cannons, and just a few miles out continue, all the time, those wild and passionate struggles for life and death between the Allies and Germans, which soon--God in His mercy forbid--may fling this smiling, fair-headed boy out into the sad dark glory of death on the battle-field, leaving his little one fatherless. Ah, but with what a heritage! And then, all suddenly, I think to myself, who would not be glad and proud to come to life under such Epic Happenings. Such glorious heroic beginnings, with all that is commonplace and worldly left out, and all that is stirring and deep and vital put in. * * * * * Never in the history of the world have there been as many marriages as now. Everywhere girls and men are marrying. No longer do they hesitate and ponder, and hang back. Instead they rush towards each other, eagerly, confidentially, right into each others' arms, into each others' lives. "Till Death us do part!" say those thousands of brave young voices. Indeed it seems to me that never in the history of this old, old world was love as wonderful as now. Each bride is a heroine, and oh, the hero that every bridegroom is! They snatch at happiness. They discover now, in one swift instant, what philosophers have spent years in teaching;--that "life is fleeting," and they are afraid to lose one of the golden moments which may so soon come to an end for ever. But that is not all. There is something else behind it all--something no less beautiful, though less personal. There is the intention of the race to survive. Consciously, sometimes,--but more often unconsciously--our men and our women are mating for the sake of the generation that will follow, the children who will rise up and call them blessed, the brave, strong, wonderful children, begotten of brave, sweet women who joyously took all risks, and splendid, heroic men with hearts soft with love and pity for the women they left behind, but with iron determination steeling their souls to fight to the death for their country.