_December 1, in the morning_
(from a billet).

I remember the satisfaction I felt in my freedom when I was exempted
from my military duties. It seemed to me that if, at twenty-seven years
old, I had been obliged to return to the regiment, my life and career
would have been irretrievably lost. And here I am now, twenty-eight
years old, back in the army, far from my work, my responsibilities, my
ambitions--and yet never has life brought me such a full measure of
finer feelings; never have I been able to record such freshness of
sensibility, such security of conscience. So those are the blessings
arising out of the thing which my reasonable human foresight envisaged
as disaster. And thus continues the lesson of Providence which,
upsetting all my fears, makes good arise out of every change of
situation.

The two last sunrises, yesterday and to-day, were lovely. . . .

I feel inclined to make you a little sketch of the view from my
window. . . .

* * * * *

It is done from memory; in your imagination you must add streaks of
purple colour, making the most dramatic effect, and an infinite stretch
of open country to right and left. This is what I have been able again
and again to look upon, during this time. At this moment, the soft sky
brings into harmony the orchards where we work. My little job dispenses