He turned from the desolate scene back to his
reminiscences.
``He came singing through the orchards into the village,'' he said.
``A quaint old place with queer gables, called Ville-en-Bois.''
``Do you know where we are?'' said the other.
``No, said the platoon commander.''
``I thought not,'' he said. ``Hadn't you better take a look at the
map?''
``I suppose so,'' said the platoon commander, and he smoothed out his
map and wearily got to the business of finding out where he was.
``Good Lord!'' he said. ``Ville-en-Bois!''
Spring in England and Flanders
Very soon the earliest primroses will be coming out in woods wherever
they have been sheltered from the north. They will grow bolder as the
days go by, and spread and come all down the slopes of sunny hills.
Then the anemones will come, like a shy pale people, one of the tribes
of the elves, who dare not leave the innermost deeps of the wood: in
those days all the trees will be in leaf, the bluebells will follow,
and certain fortunate woods will shelter such myriads of them that the
bright fresh green of the beech trees will flash between two blues,
the blue of the sky and the deeper blue of the bluebells.
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