I understand why every one is fond of Auger. It is because he is reassuring. Seeing him and listening to him one opines that suffering is not such a horrible thing after all. Those who live far from the battle-field, and visit hospitals to get a whiff of the war, look at Auger and go away well satisfied with everything: current events, him, and themselves. They are persuaded that the country is well defended, that our soldiers are brave, and that wounds and mutilations, though they may be serious things, are not unbearable. Yet pain has come to Auger as to the rest. But there is a way of taking it. He suffers in an enlightened, intelligent, almost methodical fashion. He does not confuse issues, and complain indiscriminately. Even when in the hands of others, he remains the man who had the courage to cut off his own foot, and finish the work of the shrapnel. He is too modest and respectful to give advice to the surgeon, but he offers him valuable information. He says: "Just there you are against the bone, it hurts me very much. Ah! there you can scrape, I don't feel it much. Take care! You're pressing rather too hard. All right: you can go on, I see what it's for...." And this is how we work together. "What are you doing? Ah, you're washing it. I like that. It does me good. Good blood! Rub a little more just there. You don't know how it itches. Oh! if you're going to put the tube in, you must tell me, that I may hold on tight to the table." So the work gets on famously. Auger will make a rapid and excellent recovery. With him, one need never hesitate to do what is necessary. I wanted to give him an anaesthetic before scraping the bone of his leg. He said: "I don't suppose it will be a very terrible business. If you don't mind, don't send me to sleep, but just do what is necessary. I will see to the rest." True, he could not help making a few grimaces. Then the Sergeant said to him: "Would you like to learn the song of the grunting pigs?" "How does your song go?" The Sergeant begins in a high, shrill voice: Quand en passant dedans la plai-ai-ne On entend les cochons... Cela prouve d'une facon certai-ai-ne Qu'ils non pas l'trooo du... bouche. Auger begins to laugh; everybody laughs. And meanwhile we are bending over the wounded leg and our work gets on apace. "Now, repeat," says the Sergeant. He goes over it again, verse by verse, and Auger accompanies him. Quand en passant dedans la plai-ai-ne... Auger stops now and then to make a slight grimace. Sometimes, too, his voice breaks. He apologises simply: "I could never sing in tune." Nevertheless, the song is learnt, more or less, and when the General comes to visit the hospital, Auger says to him: "Mon General, I can sing you a fine song." And he would, the rascal, if the head doctor did not look reprovingly at him. It is very dismal, after this, to attend to Gregoire, and to hear him groaning: "Ah! don't pull like that. You're dragging out my heart."