own struggle against the frightful sadness of my soul continued,
the military situation was growing more tense, and the preparation for
action was pushing on. Then came the announcement of the order of
attack. There was only a day left--perhaps two days. It was then I wrote
you two letters, I think those of the 13th and 14th; and really, as I
was writing, I had within my heart such a plenitude of conviction, such
a sweetness of feeling, as give incontrovertible assurance of the
reality of the beautiful and the good. The bombardment of our position
was violent; but nothing that man can do is able to stifle or silence
what Nature has to say to the human soul.

One night, between the 14th and the 15th, we were placed in trenches
that were raked by machine-guns. Our men were so exhausted that they
were obliged to give place to another battalion. We were waiting in the
wet and the cold of night when suddenly the notice came that we were
relieved. We could not tell why. But we are here again in this village,
where the men deluge their poor hearts with wine. I am in the midst of
them.

Dear mother, if there is one thing absolute in human feeling, it is
pain. I had lived hitherto in the contemplation of the interesting
relations of different emotions, losing sight of the price, the
intrinsic value, of life itself. But now I know what is essential life.
It is that which clears the soul's way to the Absolute. But I suffered
less in that time of waiting than I am suffering now from certain
companionships.

_February 16, 9 o'clock._

DEAR BELOVED MOTHER,--I was at dinner when they came to tell me we were
off. I knew it would be so; the counter-orders that put off the attack
cost us the march of forty kilometres in addition to the fatigues we had
to undergo in the first line. As we were leaving our sector I noticed
the arrival of such a quantity of artillery that I knew well enough the
pause was at an end. But the soul has its own peace. It is frosty
weather, with a sky full of stars.

_February 19_ (sent off in the full
swing of battle).

One word only. We are in the hands of God. Never, never, have we so
needed the wisdom of confidence. Death prevails, but it does not reign.
Life is still noble. Friends of mine killed and wounded yesterday and
the day before. Dearest, our messengers may be greatly delayed.

_February 22._

We are in billets after the great battle. And this time I saw it all. I
did my duty; I kne