BOURGEOIS.  It is very likely.  Then Monsieur thinks that we are true friends, the English and the French?

SUBALTERN.  But yes, Monsieur, because we love, both of us, liberty and peace.

XIV

A PASSING IN JUNE, 1915

PROLOGUE

    SCENE. The parlour of an Auberge.

PERSONS. A stoist motherly MADAME, a wrinkled fatherly MONSIEUR, and a plain but pleasant MA’MSELLE. Some English soldiers drinking.  CECIL is talking in French to MONSIEUR, and they are all very friendly.

MADAME.  Alors, vous n’avez pas encore ete aux tranchees?

CECIL.  Mais non, Madame, peut-etre ce soir.

(MONSIEUR and MADAME exchange glances.  CECIL rises to go.)

CECIL.  A Jeudi, Monsieur, Madame, Ma’mselle.

MONSIEUR, MADAME, AND MA’MSELLE (in chorus).  A Jeudi, Monsieur.

MADAME (earnestly).  Bon courage, Monsieur!

    (Curtain)

ACT I. DAWN

CECIL is discovered lying behind a wall of sandbags.  On one side are the sandbags, and on the other an idyllic spring scene, with flowers and orchards seen in the half-light of a spring morning.  The dawn breaks gently, and soon bullets begin to ping through the air, flattening themselves against the sandbags, or passing over CECIL’s head.  He wakes and yawns, and then composes himself with his eyes open.

    Enter Allegorical personages:  FATHER SUN, MOTHER EARTH, and
    a chorus of GRASSES, POPPIES, CORNFLOWERS, RAGGED ROBINS,
    DAISIES, BEETLES, BEES, FLIES, and insects of all kinds.

FATHER SUN.

  Wake, children, rub your eyes,
  Up and dance and sing and play,
  Not a cloud is in the skies;
  This is going to be my day. 
  See the tiny dew-drop glisten
  In my glancing golden ray;
  See the shadows dancing, listen
  To the lark so blithe and gay. 
  Up, children, dance and play,
  This is my own festal day.

FLOWERS, BEETLES, ETC.

          Dance and sing
          In a ring,
    Naughty clouds are chased away;
          Oh what fun,
          Father Sun
  Is going to shine the whole long day.

MOTHER EARTH.  That’s right, children.  This is the day to grow in; but don’t forget to come home to dinner; I’ve got such a nice dinner for you.

    (The children dance away delightedly, while CECIL watches
    them, fascinated.)

MOTHER EARTH.  What’s this absurd young man doing, sitting behind that ugly wall?  Why don’t he sit under a tree if he must sit?

FATHER SUN.  Oh, he’s a lunatic!  Must be.