The bottles, jugs, and glasses standing on the counter half hid the shadeless brass lamp with which the place was lit, and threw huge, uncouth shadows across the narrow, smoke-filled room on to the walls. There was a babble of voices and laughter. Every one was drinking, and the proprietor still had some liqueurs and rum left. The tired-out soldiers soon became drunk with alcohol, tobacco, and tales of the war. This diminutive café, where there was a little light, a little warmth, and a whole world of oblivion, was a veritable haven in the immense weariness of the night, among the thousands of soldiers stretched out everywhere round us, in the open or in barns, sleeping as soundly as the dead men just laid low in the fields by the shrapnel bullets. We succeeded in finding a bottle of champagne. Never had the sparkle of wine seemed to me so delicious. Nobody was asleep when we returned to our billets. Despite the complaints of the gunners the southern infantrymen went on talking, swearing, and leaving the door open.... "Aren't you chaps ever going to go to sleep?" thundered a gunner from the depths of the darkness. "Hold your jaw!" "Here! shut the door, can't you?" Men continually trod on our feet and chests and let their rifles and packs fall on us. The air was full of grumbling and vituperation. It was nearly midnight, and Moratin lost his temper: "Now are you ever going to shut up, you ----! If you don't, I'll go and fetch the Major!" A broadside of oaths rose from the straw. The gunners replied. Dozing men, waking up, yelled: "Shut your mouths! _Shut 'em_, do you hear?" _Friday, September 18_ Day was just breaking as we moved slowly along the roads across the plain, our horses sinking up to the fetlocks in clayey mud. We met large parties of wounded--Tirailleurs, Zouaves, and, above all, soldiers of the line. They overflowed the road on either side as they plodded on with heavy steps which dragged in the gutters and puddles. The dawn was misty. It was half-past four, but we could not see the faces of the wounded until they were actually passing our carriage, when we had a vision of white bandages and of others crimson-red. But when the troops had gone by in the vague, uncertain light, we could only perceive a slowly rolling sea of heads and shoulders. In the eyes of some of my comrades who yesterday were so close to death and who to-day were still stiff, tired, and dejected, I caught sight of looks of envy. They were aware of the orders which had arrived during the night, namely, that we were to return to our positions of yesterday.