Even the sky, which had been blue and
bright, was gray over Jussy, and the grayest of gray things were the
immense "_saucisses_"--three or four of them--hanging low under the
clouds like advertisements of titanic potatoes, haughtiest of war-time
vegetables.
Dierdre O'Farrell inadvertently called the big bulks "_saucissons_,"
which amused our officer guide so much that he laughed to tears. The
rest of us were able to raise only a faint smile, and we felt his
disappointment at our lack of humour.
"Ah, but it is most _funny!_" he said. "I will tell everyone. In future
they shall for us be '_saucissons_' forever. I suppose it is not so
funny for you, because the sight of these dead towns has made you sad. I
am almost afraid to take you on to Chauny. You will be much sadder
there. Chauny is the sight most pitiful of all. Would you perhaps wish
to avoid it?"
"What about you, Mother?" Father Beckett wanted to know.
But Mother had no wish to avoid Chauny. She was not able to believe that
anything could be sadder than Roye, or Nesle, or Ham, or more grim than
Jussy.
"He doesn't want to take us to Chauny," Brian whispered to me. We were
all grouped together near the cars, with Sirius, a quiet, happy dog.
"He's trying to think up a new excuse to get out of it."
I glanced at our guide. It was _like_ Brian to have guessed what we
hadn't seen! Now I was on the alert, the clear-cut French face _did_
look nonplussed; and a nervous brown hand was tugging at a smart black
moustache.
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