An unspeakable sunrise to-day! Another spring draws near. . . . I want
to tell you about our three days in the first line.

Snow and frost. We went down the slopes leading to our emplacement in
the village. The night was then so beautiful that it moved the heart of
every soldier to see it. I could never say enough about the fine
delicacy of this country. How can I explain to you the chiselled effect,
allied to the dream-like mists, with the moon soaring above? For three
days my night-service took me straight to the heart of this purity,
this whiteness.

Tarnished gold-work of the trees. And, in spite of the mist, many
colours, rose and blue.

There are hours of such beauty that those who take them to themselves
can hardly die. I was well in front of the first lines, and never did I
feel better protected. This morning, when I came, a pink and green
sunrise over the blue and rosy snow; the open country marked with woods
and covered fields; far off, the distance, in which the silvery Meuse
fades away. O Beauty, in spite of all!


_February 2._

DEAR BELOVED MOTHER,--Your letter of the 29th has this moment come to
the billet. A nameless day, a day without form, yet a day in which the
spring most mysteriously begins to stir. Warm air in the lengthening
days; a sudden softening, a weakening of Nature. Alas, how sweet this
emotion would be if it could be felt outside this slavery, but the