ty, except for one serving-girl,
Marthe, who had her apron to her face and was sobbing bitterly.
Presently, Marie-Louise came up to my room and told me the news, and
we had a drink together in honour of the great event. Said I: "What
has happened to poor Marthe? It is sad that she should be so upset on
this great day. What is the matter?" "Ah!" said Marie-Louise, "it is
the day that has upset her." "The day?" said I. "Yes," replied
Marie-Louise, "you see, her husband will come out of the trenches now
and will come back to her. C'est la Guerre!"

Later, Maude came in, and I asked him what on earth a Boche was doing
over Amiens just at the moment the fighting ceased. "Oh," said Maude,
"there wasn't any Boche, but the anti-aircraft chap got orders to fire
off his guns for ten minutes when the Armistice was signed, but, as he
had nothing but live shells, he thought he had better stop after two."
But why he burst his shells right over the centre of the town was
never explained.

Yet, on this day, looked forward to for years, I must admit that,
studying people, I found something wrong--perhaps, like all great
moments expected, something is sure to fall short of expectations.
Peace was too great a thing to think about, the longing for it was too
real, too intense. For four years the fighting men had thought of (p. 097)
nothing except that great moment of achievement: now it had come, the
great thing had ceased, the war was won and over. The fighting
man--that marvellous thing that I had worshipped all the time I had
been in France--had ceased actively to exist. I realised then, almost
as much as I do now, that he was lost, forgotten. "Greater love hath
no man"--they had given up their all for the sake of the people at
home, gone through Hell, misery and terror of sudden death. Could one
doubt that those at home would not reward them? Alas, yes! and the
doubt has come true. It made me very depressed. The one thing these
wonderful super-men gave me to think that evening was: "What shall we
do? Will they do as they promised for us? I gave up all my life and
work at home and came out here to kill and be killed. Here I am
stranded--I cannot kill anyone any more, and nobody wants to kill me.
What am I to do? Surely they will give me some job: I have done my
bit, they can't just let me starve." "When you come back home
again"--yes, that crossed their minds and mine for them. Wending my
way home through the blackened streets tha