... A gulf had opened between them.
When after dinner they all went back to his father's study, and they
saw him comfortably established with a cigar, he had to try and
satisfy these poor waiting people. So he quietly began to tell them
how his time was passed, with a certain proud reserve and leaving out
tragical pictures. They listened in trembling expectation, and when
he had finished they were still expectant. Then on their side came a
shower of questions, to which Maxime's replies were short--soon he
fell silent. Clerambault to wake up the "young rascal" tried several
jovial thrusts.
"Come now, tell us about some of your engagements.... It must be fine
to see such joy, such sacred fire--Lord, but I would like to see all
that, I would like to be in your place."
"You can see all these fine things better from where you are," said
Maxime. Since he had been in the trenches he had not seen a fight,
hardly set eyes on a German, his view was bounded by mud and
water--but they would not believe him, they thought he was talking
"contrariwise" as he did when he was a child.
"You old humbug," said his father, laughing gaily, "What does happen
then all day long in your trenches?"
"We take care of ourselves; kill time, the worst enemy of all."
Clerambault slapped him amicably on the back.
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