His excitement communicated itself to the men. Not one of them broke down beneath the weight of the bags, heavy though these were. The captain posted the non-commissioned officers at regular intervals, so that his orders could be passed on from the terrace to every end of the property. Lieutenant Fabregues came up. The materials were beginning to fall short and the lofty wall remained inaccessible to the marksmen in several places. Mme. Morestal behaved like a heroine: "Take the furniture, captain, the chairs, the tables. Break them up, if necessary.... Burn them even.... Do just as if my husband were here." "M. Morestal said something about a stock of cartridges," asked the captain. "In the boxes in the harness-room. Here are the keys." The men redoubled their activity. The Old Mill was ransacked; and the soldiers passed laden with mattresses, sofas, old oak chests, hangings also and carpets, with which they stopped up the holes and the windows. "The flames are spreading," said the captain, going to the top of the staircase. "There's nothing left of Farmer Saboureux's buildings.... But by what miracle ...? Who set the place on fire?..." "I did." A peasant stood at the top of the steps, in a scorched blouse, with his face all blackened. "You, Saboureux?" "Yes, I," growled Saboureux, fiercely. "I had to.... I heard you over there: 'If we could only stop them,' says you. 'If I had half an hour to spare!'... Well, there's your half an hour for you.... I set fire to the shanty." "And very nearly roasted me inside it," grinned Old Poussiere, who was with the farmer. "I was asleep in the straw...." The captain nodded his head: "By Jove, Farmer Saboureux, but that's a damned sportsmanlike thing you've done! I formed a wrong opinion of you. I apologize. May I shake you by the hand?" The peasant put out his hand and then walked away, with his back bent in two. He sat down in a corner of the drawing-room. Poussiere also huddled into a chair, took a piece of bread from his pocket, broke it and gave half to Saboureux, as though he thought it only natural to share what he had with the man who had nothing left. "Here's Duvauchel, sir!" announced a rifleman. "Here's Duvauchel!" The staircase was too narrow and they had to bring the stretcher round by the garden. The captain ran to meet the wounded man, who made an effort to stand on his legs: "What's up, Duvauchel? Are you hit?" "Not I, sir, not I," said the man, whose face was livid and his eyes burning with fever. "A cherry-stone tickled my shoulder, by way of a lark. It's nothing...." "But the blood's flowing...." "It's nothing, I tell you, sir.... I know all about it.... Saw plenty of it as a greaser!... It won't show in five minutes ... and then I'm off...." "Oh, of course, I forgot, you're deserting!..." "Rather! The comrades are waiting for me...." "Then begin by getting your wound dressed...."