I sat on the trunk of a tree, watched the dew on the grass and the faint blue like the colour of a bird's egg flood the sky, staining it pale yellow.

All firing had utterly ceased.

There was not a sound except the birds in the trees who were beginning to sing.

A soldier, a fine grave figure with a black beard, was washing in a little pool at the end of the garden.

He was naked save for his white drawers.