“He remembered that the news was bad, German armoured troops were pouring through a breach opened in the Maginot dam, but he was happy. He took it as an omen. Today, he said to himself, they will be turned back. Leaning out of the window of his room, he was offered omens on every hand. It was six o’clock. The air on this side of the courtyard was still cool, it promised victory and freshness: the stone ledge, a handsome infant of a hundred and fifty years, spoke about newness, a new beginning—as... if France were about to begin, as if the word France were going to be spoken for the first time, in an attentive world. In a world so young as this, tragedy was a child’s moment of grief—endless and nothing. When he went into his general’s room, he found, as usual, that Ligny had been awake for hours, and was reading. Ligny closed the book. “Listen, my dear boy. . . . Mes sæurs, I’onde est plus fraîche aux premiers feux du jour.. . . How old I am, and how young everything else is!MoreLessRead More Read Less
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