The Boche, who is
the priest of the Higher Counter-jumpery, would have had half
the neutral Press out in cars to advertise these vast spectacles
of men and material. But the same instinct as makes their rich
farmers keep to their smocks makes the French keep quiet.
"This is our affair," they argue. "Everybody concerned is
taking part in it. Like the review you saw the other day,
there are no spectators."
"But it might be of advantage if the world knew."
Mine was a foolish remark. There is only one world to-day,
the world of the Allies. Each of them knows what the others
are doing and--the rest doesn't matter. This is a curious but
delightful fact to realize at first hand. And think what it
will be later, when we shall all circulate among each other
and open our hearts and talk it over in a brotherhood more
intimate than the ties of blood!
I lay that night at a little French town, and was kept awake
by a man, somewhere in the hot, still darkness, howling aloud
from the pain of his wounds. I was glad that he was alone,
for when one man gives way the others sometimes follow. Yet
the single note of misery was worse than the baying and
gulping of a whole ward. I wished that a delegation of
strikers could have heard it.
. .
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