re what
people think of him--are too analytical and self-critical to give much
of their blood to anybody or to make their blood of very much value if
they did.

I only meant that I would do my best.

Later in the morning the firing began again pretty close. Andrey
Vassilievitch came to me and wanted to talk to me. I was rather short
with him because I was busy. He wanted to tell me that he hoped I
hadn't misunderstood his quarrel with Nikitin last night. It had been
nothing at all. His nerves had been rather out of order. He was very
much better to-day, felt quite another man. He _looked_ another man
and I said so. He said that I did.... Strange, but I felt as I looked
at him that he was sickening for some bad illness. One feels that
sometimes about people without being able to name a cause.

I have an affection for the little man--but he's an awful fool. Well,
so am I. But fools never respect fools.... Strange to see Semyonov. I
had expected him for some reason to be different to-day. Just the
same, of course, very sarcastic to me. I had a hole in one of my
pockets and was always forgetting and putting money and things into
it. This seemed to annoy him. But to-day nothing matters. Even the
flies do not worry me. All the morning Marie has seemed so close to
me. I have a strange excitement, the feeling that one has when one is
in a train that approaches the place where some one whom one loves is
waiting.... I feel exactly as though I were going on a journey....

Since three o'clock we've had a lively time. The attack began about
five minutes to three, by a shell splashing into the Forest near our
battery. No one killed, fortunately. They've simply stormed away since
then. I don't seem to be able to realise it and have been sitting in
my room writing as though they were a hundred miles away. One so used
to the noise. Everything is ready. We've got all the wounded prepared.
If only the wagons would come.... Hallo! a shell in the
garden--cracked one of these windows. I must go down to see whether
any one's touched.... I put this in my bag. To-morrow ... and I am so
happy that...

* * * * *

The end of Trenchard's diary.

These are the last words in Trenchard's journal. It fills about half
the second exercise book. The last pages are written in a hand very
much clearer and steadier than the earlier ones.

I would like now to make my account as brief as possible.

Upon the afternoon