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It was a humble dwelling of plastered stone standing between two tall fir-trees, with ivy growing over the walls, lilies and hollyhocks blooming in the garden. Pierre found it not half so good a house as "L'Alouette." But to the custodian it was more precious than a palace. In this upper room with its low mullioned window the Maid began her life.
Good luck to you, Pierre Duval. So I went back to the farm as fast as I could go." He was silent for a few moments, letting his thoughts wander through the pleasant paths of that little garden of repose. His eyes were dreaming, his lips almost smiled. "It was sweet at 'L'Alouette, very sweet, Father.
Their departure for Canada occurred on April 24th, 1626, and there were five vessels in the squadron: the Catherine, two hundred and fifty tons, commanded by de la Ralde; La Flèque, two hundred and sixty tons, with Emery de Caën as vice-admiral; L'Alouette, eighty tons, and two other vessels, one of two hundred tons, and the other of one hundred and twenty tons.
He would never be ashamed to meet her eyes. As he went, alone or in company with others, he whistled and sang a bit. He thought of "L'Alouette" a good deal. But not too much. He thought also of the forts of Douaumont and Vaux. "Dame!" he cried to himself. "If I could help to win them back again! That would be fine! How sick that would make those cursed boches and their knock-kneed Crown Prince!"
Well, you are going back to "L'Alouette" to hear the lark sing for a month, to kiss your wife and your children, to pick gooseberries and currants. Eh, my boy, what do you think of that? Then, when the month is over, you will be a new man. You will be ready to fight again at Verdun. Remember they have not passed and they shall not pass!
But something inside of me shouted: 'Fight on! It is for France. It is for "L'Alouette" thy farm; for thy wife, thy little ones. Will you let them be ruined by those beasts of Germans? What are they doing here on French soil? Brigands, butchers, apaches! Drive them out; and if they will not go, kill them so they can do no more shameful deeds. Fight on! So I killed all I could."
Good luck to you, Pierre Duval. So I went back to the farm as fast as I could go." He was silent for a few moments, letting his thoughts wander through the pleasant paths of that little garden of repose. His eyes were dreaming, his lips almost smiled. "It was sweet at 'L'Alouette, very sweet, Father.
How is it that you call it? I suppose I had been babbling about it in my sleep and one of the nurses had told him. He was always that way, that little Doctor Roselly, taking an interest in the men, talking with them and acting friendly. I said the farm was called 'L'Alouette' rather a foolish name. 'Not, at all, he answered; 'it is a fine name, with the song of a bird in it.
I am reading Juste Olivier's "Chansons du Soir" over again, and all the melancholy of the poet seems to pass into my veins. It is the revelation of a complete existence, and of a whole world of melancholy reverie. How much character there is in "Musette," the "Chanson de l'Alouette," the "Chant du Retour," and the "Gaite," and how much freshness in "Lina," and "A ma fille!"
He was doing that which France asked of him, that which God told him to do. Josephine would be proud of him. He would never be ashamed to meet her eyes. As he went, alone or in company with others, he whistled and sand a bit. He thought of "L'Alouette" a good deal. But not too much. He thought also of the forts of Douaumont and Vaux. "Dame!" he cried to himself.
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