File:"Water colors," south of France, 1918-1919 (1921) (14784869565).jpg

Identifier: watercolorssouth00puls (find matches)
Title: "Water colors," south of France, 1918-1919
Year: 1921 (1920s)
Authors: Pulsifer, Susan Nichols
Subjects: World War, 1914-1918
Publisher: Boston, The Four Seas Company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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e look of a brigand in his gaunt,hard face with the glistening blue eyes and uncared-for 39 40 WATER COLORS beard. He will conform to no hospital rules and is evenrebellious that he can buy no shoes in town. If we are not allowed shoe-leather I shall run bare-foot right through the streets of Cannes, out on yourCroisette, even, I tell you,—^you shall see, you shall see! Here in ugly bare feet, sun-burned and hardened,swinging his long arms, his cap hanging quite off the backof his head, he strides through our halls,—noisy, jesting,laughing, his arm about some comrade of smaller stature. When Fleury and Ribot quarrel over the soup, Remygives them a rough word of encouragement for their dif-ference as he wrests the tureen from them and himselfundertakes distribution. Only little old Madame Nier isnever afraid of the striding, red-belted Remy. Like somepurring white cat she trots behind him encouraging withher soft voice and the ladle: Eh bien,—^mon petit, brave petit, de la soupe?
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POILUS LES HOMES What a child he is, this young French soldier! In spiteof his heavy, bristling, black moustache he presents achilds countenance with two round, dark, wonderingeyes,—for all the world like a picture of the children ofde Monvel. Only take away the moustache and put himinto a black school apron and you will have a figure quitefamiliar, if long ago you read French childrens books.His smile and ways are easy, pleasant, provincial,—hisspeech a bit drawling with the odd Southern twang. Heis a farmers boy from the Midi, pres Toulouse. His mother and father have never left their farm-land,but he has been very far and has even seen the Americans.What does he think of them? With his easy smile,—lis sont gentils, ils donnent des cigarettes.He has no wise words, no expressed philosophy; hesees the world through sad, wondering, round childs eyes,and only shakes his head: Cest malheureux se laisser tuer comme ga.Question him about his prospects, the farm-land whichhe will inhe

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