Complete Text (Part 11)

to rest his wounded leg. All the men who are able to get up surround him, their heads bandaged, their arms in slings, limping along on crutches or the shoulder of a comrade. From the beds pathetic heads are raised in order to see better. The cere- monies begin. The system is very simple. The numbers contained in the bag corre- spond to the hospital numbers of the men and those whose numbers were first drawn choose first. From one end of the room to the other they went back and forth to de- scribe to those who were in bed the look, the size and the shape of the packages. After IN A FRENCH HOSPITAL 165 they have heard these details they consider, occasionally for a long time, and give their orders, which are immediately executed. The lucky ones who were on their feet, care- fully make the round of the tree, again and again, before deciding, as if it were a ques- tion of very serious moment. The pleas- ure of all these veterans was very touching. By a tender memory they found again that evening the feeling they had as children. A fictitious number marked with the name of the surgeon of the room suddenly came out. There just at that moment was Dr. X, gay and kind as always. The men feel great admiration and affection for him, which is well deserved, because his untiring devotion is as great as his scientific skill. He gra- ciously accepted a box of caramels and at his request one of the young girls passed it around the room. An adjutant whose bed was far away, claimed when his turn came, the honour of having one of the flags. Boisset confided to l66 IN A FRENCH HOSPITAL me his satisfaction at being the last one called. "It's the least we can do, to give our dear wounded the first choice," he said. The directors of the hospital arrived in the midst of the distribution of the presents. Behind them we saw, to our great surprise, a little harmonium pushed by vigorous arms, and with it a whole choir of soldiers. Sis- ter Lucy, the accompanist, was summoned. She took her place; the uniforms were grouped around her white headdress and in front of the glowing tree we sang once more the old French carols. People, on your knees, await your deliverance. That command to hope and pray chanted by the fine, serious voice of a singer whose head was bandaged, awoke the far echoes of the room over which a tense and profound silence had spread. But as the songs fol- lowed one another we could hear from some of the beds, here and there, the sound of IN A FRENCH HOSPITAL 167 Stifled sobs. They are gay, really, our sim- ple old songs! But to-day their gaiety stirred in our hearts too many memories of past Christmases, from those which we cele- brated as children in the abandonment of careless happiness, to the later ones, even to that of last year. That one was perhaps made up of the happiness of other children, grown up around us; it was filled anyway with the inexpressible sweetness of home. Two of the invalids were affected in a par- ticularly harrowing way. It was because they suffered with an agony for which we shall never have pity enough. They came from the regions that have been invaded and they did not know what had become of their wives and children. The little girls, who were brought into the hospital room for the first time yesterday, were completely over- come by the tears of these men. They came to me to say, in a slightly horrified tone, that Sister Gabrielle had said that they should not try to comfort them. She would l68 IN A FRENCH HOSPITAL talk to them herself later on, but she was sure, that for the time being, it was better to leave them alone. Sister Gabrielle was right. She knew well that at certain times there are griefs that cannot be comforted. During that day of respite when the se- vere rules of the hospital bowed before the gentle Christmas time, in front of that tree of memories, in that softening family atmos- phere, we could not but let them weep freely, these fathers, husbands and chil- dren who suddenly saw near them again the longed-for vision of their threat- ened homes. Ever since the manger at Beth- lehem no doubt men have wept at the feet of the new-born babe whose divine hand consoles and lifts up sorrowing hearts. No, we must say nothing. No one should try to come between human sorrow and the child who is to suffer on the cross, for since that night the bond is beyond our understanding. Let the very tears of our soldiers help us pray for those dreadful troubles that we see IN A FRENCH HOSPITAL 169 and for the other more hidden ones which weigh on our souls. To-morrow when the great windows open again to the cold air of December we shall take up once more with greater courage after to-day's tears, our customary life and our self-control. To- morrow, Sister Gabrielle, who has seemed to see nothing, will remember, as if by a miracle, those beds where so many tears have been shed. She will bend those quiver- ing white wings over them for a few mo- ments and will say words of strength and consolation. To-morrow the blessed Christ- mas day will be over, of course, but the tree stripped of its garlands and presents, will still hold the tri-colour ribbons and also hid- den in its lowest branches, the divine child, who stretches out his arms. Sister Gabrielle still has that silent and eloquent sermon; the child of sacrifice under the colours of that France for which we must be ready to give all and even to die; that is what she leaves before the eyes of the soldiers. 170 IN A FRENCH HOSPITAL But their thoughts and ours also can rise beyond, even higher than the hardships of the stable and of the present moment. This Jesus who smiles in the straw of the manger and who is willing through love to become the God of the Crucifixion, is also the God of the Resurrection. The feast of His com- ing has given to humanity a radiant thought. To truly celebrate that anniversary we must know how to hear beyond the days of sad- ness the distant Alleluia. The true Christ- mas of Christian souls is at all times the feast of hope. THE END Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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