Among them was a German prisoner, an
elderly man, belonging to the Landwehr; in private life a photographer.
He also had been making experiments in the direction of colour
photography. Chance had revealed to the two men their common interest,
and they had been exchanging notes. The German talked a little French,
but not sufficient; and on the day of Joan's arrival they had reached an
impasse that was maddening to both of them. Joan found herself up
against technical terms that rendered her task difficult, but fortunately
had brought a dictionary with her, and was able to make them understand
one another. But she had to be firm with both of them, allowing them
only ten minutes together at a time. The little Frenchman would kneel by
the bedside, holding the German at an angle where he could talk with
least danger to his wound. It seemed that each was the very man the
other had been waiting all his life to meet. They shed tears on one
another's neck when they parted, making all arrangements to write to one
another.
"And you will come and stay with me," persisted the little Frenchman,
"when this affair is finished"--he made an impatient gesture with his
hands.
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