It was all so different—­as everything in this war has been—­from anything I had ever dreamed when I imagined war.  Yet I suppose that the future dramatist who uses this period as a background can get his effects just the same, without greatly falsifying the truth.  You know I am like Uncle Sarcey—­a really model theatre audience.  No effect, halfway good, passes me by.  So, as I turned back at the garden gate to watch the long grey line winding slowly into the forest, I found that I had the same chill down my back and the same tightness over my eyes and in my throat, which, in the real theatre-goers, announce that an effect has “gone home.”

The only other thing I have done this month which could interest you was to have a little tea-party on the lawn for the convalescent boys of our ambulance, who were “personally conducted” by one of their nurses.

Of course they were all sorts and all classes.  When I got them grouped round the table, in the shade of the big clump of lilac bushes, I was impressed, as I always am when I see a number of common soldiers together, with the fact that no other race has such intelligent, such really well-modelled faces, as the French.  It is rare to see a fat face among them.  There were farmers, blacksmiths, casters, workmen of all sorts, and there was one young law student, and the mixed group seemed to have a real sentiment of fraternity.

Of course, the law student was more accustomed to society than the others, and became, naturally, a sort of leader.  He knew just what to do, and just how to do it,—­how to get into the salon when he arrived, and how to greet his hostess.  But the rest knew how to follow suit, and did it, and, though some of them were a little shy at first, not one was confused, and in a few minutes they were all quite at their ease.  By the time the brief formality of being received was over, and they were all gathered round the tea-table, the atmosphere had become comfortable and friendly, and, though they let the law student lead the conversation, they were all alert and interested, and when one of them did speak, it was to the point.

When tea was over and we walked out on the lawn on the north side of the house to look over the field of the battle in which most of them had taken part, they were all ready to talk—­they were on ground they knew.  One of them asked me if I could see any of the movements of the armies, and I told him that I could not, that I could only see the smoke, and hear the artillery fire, and now and then, when the wind was right, the sharp repeating fire of rifles as well as mitrailleuses, and that I ended by distinguishing the soixante-quinze from other artillery guns.

“Look down there, in the wide plain below Montyon,” said the law student.  I looked, and he added, “As nearly as I can judge the ground from here, if you had been looking there at eleven o’clock in the morning, you would have seen a big movement of troops.”