y may agree with the
others. They will take up all opinions one after the other."

"You are a revolutionary then because you are discouraged?" said
Clerambault, laughing.

"There are plenty like that among us."

"Gillot came out of the war more optimistic than he went in."

"Gillot is the forgetful sort, but I don't envy him that," said Moreau
bitterly.

"But you ought not to upset him," said Clerambault.

"Gillot needs all the help you can give him."

"Help from me?" said Moreau incredulously.

"He is not naturally strong, and if you would make him so, you must
let him see that you believe in him."

"Do you think belief comes by willing to have it?"

"You know whether that is true! No, I think, is the answer. Belief
comes through love."

"By love of those who believe?"

"Is it not always through love, and only in that way, that we learn to
trust?"

Moreau was touched; he had been a clever youth, eaten up by the
craving for knowledge, and like the rest of his class, he had suffered
for lack of brotherly affection. True human intercourse is banished
from the education of today, but this vital sentiment, hitherto
repressed, had revived in the trenches, filled with living, suffering
flesh thrown together. At first it was hard to let oneself go; the
general hardening, the fear of sentimentality or of ridicule, tended
to put barriers between hearts; but when Moreau was laid up, his
sheath of pride began to give way, and Clerambault had little
difficulty in breaking through it. The best thing about this man was
that false pride melted before him, for he had none of his own; people
showed to him as he to them their real selves, their weakness and
their troubles, which we are taught to hide from a silly idea of
self-respect. Moreau had unconsciously learned to recognise at
the front the superiority of men who were his social inferiors,
brother-soldiers or "Non-Coms." Among these he had been much drawn to
Gillot. He was glad that Clerambault should have appealed to him on
behalf of his friend, for his secret wish always was to be of some use
to another man.

At the next opportunity Clerambault whispered to Gillot that he ought
to be optimistic for two, and cheer Moreau up; and thus each found
help in the need of helping the other, according to the great
principle of life: "Give, and it shall be given unto you."

No matter in what time one lives, nor what misfortunes overtake one,
all is not lost as long as t