So the martyrdom of Amiens was at an end, and life came back to the city that had been dead, and the soul of the city had survived. I have not seen it since then, but one day I hope I shall go back and shake hands with Gaston the waiter and say, “ Comment ça va, mon vieux? ” (“How goes it, my old one?”) and stroll into the bookshop and say, “ Bon jour, mademoiselle! ” and walk round the cathedral and see its beauty in moonlight again when no one will look up and say, “Curse the moon!”

There will be many ghosts in the city at night⁠—the ghosts of British officers and men who thronged those streets in the great war and have now passed on.