"_Dieu--je--vous--donne--ma--vie--librement--pour--ma--patrie!_" "_Librement! Librement! Ah, oui! Oui!_" He was beaten at last. The choking, dying, bewildered man had said the noble words. "God, I give you my life freely for my country!" After which came a volley of low toned Latin phrases, rattling in the stillness like the popping of a _mitrailleuse_. * * * * * Two hours later he was still alive, restless, but no longer resentful. "It is difficult to go," he murmured, and then: "Tonight, I shall sleep well." A long pause followed, and he opened his eyes. "Without doubt, the next world is more _chic_ than this," he remarked smiling, and then: "I was mobilized against my inclination. Now I have won the _Medaille Militaire_. My Captain won it for me. He made me brave. He had a revolver in his hand." LOCOMOTOR ATAXIA Just inside the entrance gates a big, flat-topped tent was pitched, which bore over the low door a signboard on which was painted, _Triage No. 1. Malades et Blesses Assis_. This meant that those _assis_, able to travel in the ambulances as "sitters," were to be deposited here for diagnosis and classification. Over beyond was the _Salle d'Attente_, the hut for receiving the _grands blesses_, but a tent was sufficient for sick men and those slightly wounded. It was an old tent, weatherbeaten, a dull, dirty grey. Within the floor was of earth, and along each side ran long, narrow, backless benches, on which the sick men and the slightly wounded sat, waiting sorting. A grey twilight pervaded the interior, and the everlasting Belgian rain beat down upon the creaking canvas, beat down in gentle, dripping patters, or in hard, noisy gusts, as it happened. It was always dry inside, however, and the earth floor was dusty, except at the entrance, where a triangle of mud projected almost to the doctor's table, in the middle. The _Salle d'Attente_ was different. It was more comfortable. The seriously wounded were unloaded carefully and placed upon beds covered with rubber sheeting, and clean sacking, which protected the thin mattresses from blood. The patients were afterwards covered with red blankets, and stone hot water bottles were also given them, sometimes. But in the sorting tent there were no such comforts. They were not needed. The sick men and the slightly wounded could sit very well on the backless benches till the _Medecin Major_ had time to come and examine them.