“Though your heart may ache awhile,
                              Never mind! 
          Though your face may lose its smile,
                              Never mind! 
          For there’s sunshine after rain,
          And then gladness follows pain,
          You’ll be happy once again,
                              Never mind!”

The ditty deals with broken vows, and faithless hearts, and blighted lives; just the sort of song that Tommy loves to warble after a good meal in the evening.  It conjured to the Subaltern’s eyes the picture of the dainty little star who had sung it on the boards of the Coliseum.  And to conclude, Madame’s voice, French, and sonorously metallic, was heard in the dining-room striking up the “Marseillaise.”  Tommy did not know a word of it, but he yelled “March on” (a very good translation of “Marchons”) and sang “lar lar” to the rest of the tune.

Thus passed peacefully enough those five days—­the calm before the storm.

CHAPTER III

THE ADVANCE TO MONS

The Battalion had arrived at Iron on a Sunday morning.  It had rested there, while the remainder of the British Army was being concentrated, until Friday morning.  On Thursday night the Battalion Orders made it clear that a start was to be made.  Parade was to be earlier than usual, and nothing was to be left behind.  Every one was very sorry to be leaving their French friends, and there were great doings that night.  Champagne was produced, and a horrible sort of liquor called “alcahol” was introduced into the coffee.  Such was the generosity of the miller’s people that it was only with the greatest difficulty that the Captain induced Madame to accept any payment for her kindness.  And so in the chill of that Friday morning the Battalion marched away, not without many handshakings and blessings from the simple villagers.  The Subaltern often wonders what became of Mesdames, and that excitable son Raoul, and charming Therese, whom the Subalterns had all insisted on kissing before they left.  A very different sort of folk occupy that village now.  He only hopes that his friends escaped them.

The Battalion joined its Brigade, and the Brigade its Division, and before the sun was very high in the sky they were swinging along the “route nationale,” due northwards.  The day was very hot, and the Battalion was hurried, with as short halts as possible, towards Landrecies.  As, however, this march was easily surpassed in “frightfulness” by many others, it will be enough to say that Landrecies was reached in the afternoon.

Having seen his men as comfortable as possible in the schools where they were billeted for the night, the Subaltern threw off his equipment, and having bought as much chocolate as he and a friend could lay their hands on, retired to his room and lay down.