Lulled by these dreams, I discovered in them an excuse for the drowsiness which enfolded me. What I experienced was only human. Why a Roman rigour? If I did not burn to risk everything blindly in an adventure of regeneration, if I let myself be touched by the idea of a calm life spent among companions of my choice, if, in order that such a desire might be fulfilled, I caught myself wishing for a cessation of hostilities, an armistice, or an "honourable" peace of some kind, good God, was it anything to be ashamed of? What right had all the great sentiments in the world to suppress my humble wish to be happy? CHAPTER XIV EN ROUTE AGAIN Some time passed by. A distant fusillade crackled for a moment. The big guns boomed for an hour, and then were silent. It was becoming doubtful whether we should go on that day. Henriot got impatient. The men asked for nothing better than to start again. When once the rations had been issued and the cooks had dished up a hot meal, we could manage. There was some question of a party of us being told off to bury the dead. I dreaded lest this fatigue should fall to us; I foresaw how horrible it would be. We luckily escaped it. An unexpected order came for the battalion to move on. I noticed that we were going northwards, in the direction of the enemy. We were preceded by patrol parties, and reconnoitring cavalry covered us. The march was not marked by any notable incident. I remembered that we passed through a big village which had been occupied up till the night before by the enemy. One would have liked to stop there, to question the inhabitants whom we were delivering from this nightmare, and make friends with them.... But where were they? There was nobody but old women to be seen, and on their waxen faces I thought I made out a strange resentful expression. Why resentful? Because their village had been abandoned, and left if only for a few hours to the mercy of the invaders, who had taken the healthy men with them when they left, and had said: "We shall come back, but next time we shall not leave one stone upon another." We got hot, marching. I was possessed by the thought of poor De Valpic dying of thirst. I ended by going to find him, and offering to share what was left in my water-bottle with him. He refused to accept it, and I had to force it on him, but this scene which was repeated twice a day bored me. Bouillon noticed my annoyance and realised the reason for it. He hailed the cyclist, a man named Ducostal, and gave him to understand that my water-bottle leaked. "Try to get hold of one for the sergeant! Enough poor lads have been knocked out with them!" "Righto!" said the other. "I'm just taking a stroll across to the field ambulance." Just on the chance I begged him to ask for news of Sergeant Frémont of the 22nd, down there. He went off. I felt certain that he would forget both commissions.