I admire their heroism and
sympathize with their sufferings, but I deplore their bad judgment.
There are grapes growing on trellises in the little courtyard at the
back, but they are too green for human consumption. I speak
authoritatively on this subject, having just sampled one.
Two p.m. Tried to take a nap, but failed. Hansen found a soiled deck
of cards behind a pile of books on the mantelpiece, and we all cheered
up, thinking of poker; but it was a Belgian deck of thirty-two cards,
all the pips below the seven-spot being eliminated. Poker with that deck
would be a hazardous pursuit.
McCutcheon remarks casually that he wonders what would happen if
somebody accidentally touched off those field-gun shells in the house
two doors away. We suddenly remember that they are all pointed our way!
The conversation seems to lull, and Mac, for the time being, loses
popularity.
Two-thirty p.m. Looking out on the dreary little square of this town
of Beaumont I note that the natives, who have been scarce enough all
day, have now vanished almost entirely; whereas soldiers are noticeably
more numerous than they were this morning.
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