It was a confidence which seemed to prompt mine, or take it for granted, a new bond between us. All he told me of his fiancée, I could attribute to Jeannine. Valiant children, they were both alike in their attachment to us, in their task of inspiration. I too invoked a certain passage in one of the recent letters, buttoned up in my tunic, where courage and patience were preached to me, where I was implored never to despair of happiness. Stick to it, then, by way of homage, in proof of manly devotion. I fervently forbade myself to let despondency get a hold over me. Ah! If only I could have made enthusiasm my daily bread. "I've just been writing," continued De Valpic. "Sent from here, perhaps it will arrive. Won't you imitate me?" I asked him to excuse me for a moment while I scrawled a few lines. I told Jeannine that fate had deigned to answer my prayer, and bring me near to her.... Nothing more than a smiling testimony to our faith and hope. On reading it over I laughed and said: "Well, if she is not cheered up by that!" "You know," he said, "that Paris is showing a most admirable spirit." "Really? How can you judge of it?" "Come along!" He gave me a hand by which to pull myself up. We went out. In the street I was at once struck by all the windows decked with flags flapping in the wind, the serenity written on the faces of the people walking about, the tranquil hum. I had seen the city look like this during the mobilisation. "Has there been--a victory?" I murmured. "It will come all in good time!" De Valpic said gaily. "Don't be in such a hurry!" Bells were beginning to ring. "It's Sunday," he continued. "What luck to be here on a Sunday!" We took a few steps. It was a clear, spring-like morning; a gentle breeze made the sunlit tree-tops quiver. A troop of little children ran up brandishing sticks and spades. "Hurrah for the soldiers!" they cried. They had the attractive, wide-awake faces common to Paris boys. They nudged each other. "It's the 3rd ... just look!" "My big bruvver's in the 302nd." Some of them gazed into our eyes saying: "'Ad a 'ard time, 'aven't yer, but we're sure to wop 'em, ain't we?" "Wop 'em--rather!" De Valpic retorted joyously. The passers-by smiled at us, or gave us a friendly wave of the hand. The City greeted us, not as her saviours--Paris did not admit that she was in any danger,--but simply as good children who had suffered for her sake.