The lieutenant delivers an energetic little discourse on the subject of discipline; the new-comers, unaccustomed to being harangued by their commanders, regard him as some bloodthirsty tiger. They murmur sadly to one another-- "What beastly luck to fall in with such a tartar!" Useless to explain that the lieutenant is a charming fellow, and that this is only his way, the new-comers sorrowfully shake their heads. Five hundred men are to leave to-day. Verrier is one of the number, so we make due preparations for his departure. At seven in the evening the detachment leaves Humes. Shall we ever see Verrier again? Where is he going, and what is taking place? Reymond and I return to the hotel with downcast mien. Just one drink before climbing the ladder up into the loft. Assuredly it is sadder to stay behind than to depart. _Wednesday, 2nd September._ Whenever we are free we have interesting conversations under the apple-tree with Lieutenant Roberty. The month of September will decide the war. On the 1st of November we shall all be back home. In the Paris journals of the 29th August we read of "the situation of our front from the Somme to the Vosges...." The Somme! We thought this phrase was simply a local _canard_, that by a typographical error the word _Somme_ had replaced the word _Sambre_. We imagined that fighting was still going on in Belgium. And the communiqué of the 30th states that the Imperial Guard received a check at Guise.... We read, without any great interest, details upon the constitution of the new ministry. No doubt the situation is serious. There is no infatuation here. We are still in quarters, with just the ordinary drill. _Thursday, 3rd September._ We muster. The 27th is drawn up for marching, so we shall not be here long. Three from the 28th pass into our squadron: Varlet, an electrician, a short, dark fellow with a large, pointed nose and faithful, intelligent eyes; Jacquard, a little man who vainly tries to shout as loudly as Varlet, whose voice is that of a mob orator; lastly, Charensac, who comes from Auvergne, and resembles Sancho Panza in being as broad as he is tall. The latter man has a roguish little dark moustache, and a beard that covers his neck. He wears his _képi_ on the back of his head, over his neck. His paunch protrudes in the same extravagant fashion. The fellow seems determined to treat the war as a huge joke. These three march in the second rank; Reymond and I in the first, along with Corporal Bernier and a Doctor of Law named Maxence. The latter four have rather long legs, whereas Varlet, Jacquard, and Charensac have short ones. The result is that we hear them grumbling as they march-- "Not so fast; we cannot follow you. One would think you had been feeding on gazelle's flesh!" The tall ones take longer strides than ever. When we halt for a moment words are bandied about, and a quarrel seems imminent. _Friday, 4th September._