from the rude shocks of war;
lines were confused, old ideals were analyzed in many instances as
hoary conventions, which had decayed inside until a succession of
sharp quick contacts caused the shell to cave in upon emptiness.

V

A year passed. During that time husbands did not return from the front
unless ill or maimed (and thousands of husbands are even to-day quite
intact). Then came Chapter Two of the domestic side of the War, which
should be called "Les Permissionnaires." Officers and soldiers were
allowed a six days' leave of absence from the front at stated
intervals.

The wives were all excitement and hope. They snatched time to
replenish their wardrobes, and once more the thousand corridors of the
Galeries Lafayette swarmed, the dressmakers breathed again. Shop
windows blossomed with all the delicate fripperies with which a
Frenchwoman can make old garments look new. Hotel keepers emerged from
their long night like hibernates that had overslept, and rubbing their
hands. The men were coming back. Paris would live again. And Paris,
the coquette of all the ages, forgot her new role of lady of sorrows
and smiled once more.

The equally eager husband (to pass over "les autres") generally
sneaked into his house or apartment by the back stairs and into the
bathtub before he showed himself to his adoring family; but after
those first strenuous hours of scrubbing and disinfecting and shaving,
and getting into a brand new uniform of becoming horizon blue, there
followed hours of rejoicing unparalleled by anything but a victory
over "Les Boches."

For two days husband and wife talked as incessantly as only Gauls can;
but by degrees a puzzled look contracted the officer's brow, gradually
deepening into a frown. His fluent wife, whose animation over trifles
had always been a source of infinite refreshment, was talking of
things which he, after a solid year of monotonous warfare far from
home, knew nothing. He cared to know less. He wanted the old exchange
of personalities, the dear domestic gabble.

The wife meanwhile was heroically endeavoring to throw off a feeling
of intolerable ennui. How was it that never before had she found the
hearthstone dull? The conversation of her life partner (now doubly
honored) induced a shameful longing for the seventh day.

So it was. During that year these two good people had grown apart. The
wife's new friends bored the husband, and the gallant soldier's
stories of life at