My companion wept, and the two young German officers, who had acted as bodyguards, made a seat for me by crossing their hands, and we went nearly another mile like that. My companion could not walk any farther. I offered her my place, but she refused it. “Well, then, let us wait here!” I said, and quite at the end of our strength, we rested against a little broken tree. It was now night, and such a cold night! Huddled close to Soubise, trying to keep warm, I began to fall asleep, seeing before my eyes the wounded men of Châtillon, who had died seated against the little shrubs. I did not want to move again, and the torpor seemed to me thoroughly delicious. A cart passed by, however, on its way to Tergnier. One of the young men hailed it and, when the terms were made, I felt myself picked up from the ground, lifted into the vehicle and carried along by the jerky, rolling movement of two loose wheels which climbed the hills, sank into the mire, and jumped over the heaps of stones, while the driver whipped up his beasts and urged them on with his voice. He had a “don’t care, let what will happen” way of driving, which was quite the note of the times. I was aware of all this in my semi-sleep, for I was not really asleep, but I did not want to answer any questions. I gave myself up to this prostration of my whole being with a certain enjoyment. A rough jerk, however, indicated that we had arrived at Tergnier. The cart had drawn up at the hotel, and we had to get out. I pretended to be still asleep. But it was no use, I had to wake up. The two young men helped me up to my room. I asked Soubise to arrange about the payment of the cart before the departure of our excellent young companions, who were sorry to leave us. I signed for each of them a voucher, on a sheet of the hotel paper, for a photograph. Only one of them ever claimed it. This was six years later, and I sent it to him.