How various is a face; but an hour ago it was strange and now it is touched with a tenderness that comes, not from it, but out of the night, the world and the blood, all these things seem to shine in it together. The objects in the room are touched by it and transformed, they become isolated, and I feel almost awed at the sight of my clear skin when the light of the lamp falls upon it and the cool, brown hand passes over it. How different all this is from the conditions in the soldier's brothels, to which we are allowed to go, and where we have to wait in long queues. I wish I never thought of them; but desire turns my mind to them involuntarily and I am afraid, for it might be impossible ever to be free of them again. But then I feel the lips of the little brunette and press myself against them, my eyes close and I let it all fall from me, war and terror and grossness, in order to awaken young and happy; I think of the picture of the girl on the poster and, for a moment, believe that my life depends on winning her. And if I press ever deeper into the arms that embrace me, perhaps a miracle may happen.... . . . . . . . . So, after a time we find ourselves reassembled again. Leer is in high spirits. We pull on our boots and take our leave warmly. The night air cools our hot bodies. The rustling poplars loom large in the darkness. The moon floats in the heavens and in the waters of the canal. We do not run, we walk beside one another with long strides. "That was worth a ration-loaf," says Leer. I cannot trust myself to speak, I am not in the least happy. Then we hear footsteps and dodge behind a shrub. The steps come nearer, close by us. We see a naked soldier, in boots, just like ourselves; he has a package under his arm, and gallops onward. It is Tjaden in full course. He has disappeared already. We laugh. In the morning he will curse us. Unobserved, we arrive again at our sacks of straw. * * I am called to the Orderly Room. The Company Commander gives me a leave-pass and a travel-pass and wishes me a good journey. I look to see how much leave I have got. Seventeen days--fourteen days leave and three days for travelling. It is not enough and I ask whether I cannot have five days for travelling. Bertinck points to my pass. There I see that I am not to return to the front immediately. After my leave I have to report for a course of training to a camp on the moors. The others congratulate me. Kat gives me good advice, and tells me I ought to try to get a base-job. "If you are smart, you'll hang on to it." I would rather not have gone for another eight days; we are to stay here that much longer and it is good here. Naturally I have to stand the others drinks at the canteen. We are all a little bit drunk. I become gloomy: I will be away for six weeks-- That is lucky of course, but what may happen before I get back? Shall I meet all these fellows again? Already Haie has gone--who will the next be?