We poked about the ruins, raising our heads cautiously above sandbags to look at the German lines cut into the lower slopes of Vimy, and thrust out by communication trenches to the edge of the village in which we walked. A boy officer came up out of a hole and saluted the captain, who stepped back and said, in an emotional way:

“ Tiens! C’est toi, Edouard? ”

“ Oui, mon Capitaine. ”

The boy had a fine, delicate, Latin face, with dark eyes and long, black eyelashes.

“You are a lieutenant, then? How does it go, Edouard?”