I stood and saluted. He looked me over critically and said, “You will do, Sergeant.” “Yes, sir,” I replied, “I feel fit for duty, and it doesn’t seem right for me to leave now.” He again radiated one of his indefinable smiles, partly of amusement and partly something else, and said, “A little lame yet, I see.” Then, grasping me by the shoulder, he looked in my face and said, “The decoration ceremonies are to be tomorrow, of course you know?” “Yes, sir,” I replied, “I have just received the notice.” “I am proud and glad, my friend!” “Thank you, sir,” I said, my heart glowing with pride that he should name me, a sergeant, _his friend_! I am not sure but that those words gave me more pride and pleasure than the decoration I afterwards received. After receiving directions for my simple part in the ceremonies I saluted and left with, I confess, grateful tears in my eyes. It was a great day for me. American and French regiments were drawn up in formation on a green field back from the river. Those to be decorated formed a group of five, two American and three French soldiers. Our general, strong and tall and simple; the French general, soldier of international fame, with a group of attending officers, were there. A trumpet sounded and the great French soldier came forward. He pinned the red ribbon of the Legion of Honor on the coat of a grizzled French captain--and then kissed him first on one cheek and then the other! Then came my turn: he made a little speech in French--which of course I did not understand--and pinned the green and yellow ribbon of the _Croix de Guerre_ upon my coat, and--shook hands! I felt relieved. But I was proud of the honor and the handshake from so great a soldier, and wished that my mother had lived to know about it. Perhaps she did; who knows? Before leaving for my trip I called at the hospital to see Chaplain John and had a heart-to-heart talk, such as I sometimes had had with mother. For though I have not said much of anything about it, in these pages, she at times seemed nearest to me, and thoughts of her still gave me pangs of sorrow mingled with deepest gratefulness and love for all she had been and still was to me. I had never given much thought to religious things, outside of the talks I used to have with her. The talks which the parsons gave me were usually more distressing than comforting. Boys will understand without my saying more. But this brave fellow, not many years older than I, with his common sense backed by his manly, self-sacrificing spirit, was different. When he asked me to pray with him I was a trifle disconcerted and shamefaced, for mother had taught me to pray in secret--and I hadn’t prayed much since I had been with the army. But when I rose from my knees, I had a feeling that I had been blessed by his prayer, and that a new and sweet spirit had entered into my life. CHAPTER XV ON LEAVE OF ABSENCE