It is a matter of formalities now--convalescence, and in a month's time the Medical Board.
At last Marie came one morning for me, to go home, for that interval.
She found me on the seat in the yard of the hospital, which used to be a school, under the cloth--which was the only spot where a ray of sunshine could get in.

I was meditating in the middle of an assembly of old cripples and men with heads or arms bandaged, with ragged and incongruous equipment, with sick clothes.

I detached myself from the miracle-yard and followed Marie, after thanking the nurse and saying good-by to her.
The corporal of the hospital orderlies is the vicar of our church--he who said and who spread it about that he was going to share the soldiers' sufferings, like all the priests.

Marie says to me, "Aren't you going to see him ?" "No," I say.
We set out for life by a shady path, and then the high road came.

We walked slowly.