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On a little red-covered table by the side of a little tacked label which says, "Cold Steel: May 9," there is a twisted French bayonet a bayonet, the flesh weapon, which has been twisted! "Oh, it's fine!" says a young girl from the castle. "It isn't Fritz and Jerry, old chap, that bends bayonets!" "No doubt about it, we're the first soldiers in the world," says Rampaille.
We stopped at an inn to rest and eat, and it was already evening when we reached the streets. Marie pointed out a man who was crossing over, yonder. "Monsieur Rampaille is rich now, because of the War." Then it was a woman, dressed in fluttering white and blue, disappearing round the corner of a house: "That's Antonia Véron. She's been in the Red Cross service.
The voluminous trencherman digests and blows forth with his buttered mouth; and what he has eaten purrs within him. As for Rampaille, the butcher, he has mingled with the public. He is rich but dressed with bad taste. It is his habit to say, "I am a poor man of the people, I am; look at my dirty clothes."
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