As soon as Prokesch begins to read them, the Prince stops him with the
words: "_Je dechire_." Even when a woman whom he has nicknamed "Little
Spring"--"because the water sleeping in her eyes or purling in her voice
has often cooled his fever"--announces her departure, hoping he may
detain her, he lets her go, whispering again like a refrain, "_Je
dechire_."
Did Guynemer deal with hearts as he dealt with the besieging letters, or
as the falcon of St. Jean l'Hospitalier dealt with birds?--No "Little
Spring," had her voice been ever so rill-like, could have detained him
when a sunny morning invited him skywards.
* * * * *
Safe from the admiring public, Guynemer would relax and breathe freely
with his people at Compiegne, where he became once more a lively, noisy,
indulged, but coaxing and charming boy, except when absorbed in work,
from which nothing could distract him. He spent hours in pasting and
classifying the snapshots he took of his enemies just before pulling the
trigger of his machine-gun and bringing them down. One of his greatest
pleasures when on leave was to arrange and show these photographs.
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