"Eh, _mon cher!_ What are you doing here? You look fresh and fit!... What are you looking for? You seem to be at sea." I explained my position to him, and asked him to tell me what had happened. "Oh! that would take too long. Your fellows were at Charleroi with us; they had some experiences! But hang it if I know what they are doing with us. We beat them yesterday, my friend. Our men and our guns did wonders. And now there's talk of our retreating further south. I don't understand it all. Ah! we have seen some hot work, and you will make a rough beginning.... Looking for your regiment, are you? I haven't seen it yet to-day. But you see that Staff right over there behind those stacks?... Yes, where those shells are bursting.... That's General T. He can help you; only, you see, he's not exactly in clover. T. has been splendid; always under fire, cheering on his men. They say he wants to get killed so as not to see the retreat...." I knew General T. well. He commanded a brigade in our garrison town of R. And a kindly chief he was, clear-minded, frank, and plain-spoken. I soon made up my mind to go to him and see what help I could get to enable me to rejoin my regiment. It would be a pleasure, too, to see him again. I measured the distance with my eye--a kilometre, perhaps. There was no road, and to go across the fields would not be very easy, as there were walls and hedges round the meadows. I took the other way out of the village, and just as Wattrelot and I were leaving it we saw some wounded men arriving. They came slowly, helped along by their comrades, and there were such a number of them that they blocked the road. Those faces tied up with bandages clotted with perspiration, dust, and blood; those coats hanging open; those shirts torn, and showing lint and bandages reddened with blood; those poor bandaged feet that had to be kept off the ground--all this made a painful impression on me. No doubt this was because I was not accustomed to such sights, for others hardly took any notice of it. "The ambulance! Where is the ambulance?" cried the men who were helping them along. "At the station," answered some soldiers, hardly looking round; "go straight on, and turn to the left when you get to the market-place."