It must be added that these men left F---- five days before under a gloomy impression. News had just got through of our regiment of regulars who since the very beginning had been fighting a few miles away from us, though we had never come across them. And what news it was! Leaving Longuyon on the morning of the 21st, engaged that evening at Ethes, and thrown back on Tellencourt, they had been, so to speak, volatilised, during those two days. Their losses had been enormous. One battalion had been wiped out and another was missing--the only hope was that the whole of it might have been taken prisoners--the third had been saved by the self-possession of a company commander. When one thought of the recruiting, to a great extent local--The regulars! All the young harvest! The flower of the country! A great many of our _poilus_ had a younger brother, sometimes two or three, among these troops which were said to be exterminated. They were to be seen with anxious eyes, and quivering nostrils, hazarding some name or other, in an agony of suspense. Details were generally lacking, but a trenchant reply would sometimes come: "Killed, killed!" "Killed?" "Exactly." What a blow it was. Some of them staggered, but most of them bowed their heads and said nothing. Then seized with compassion, I would go up to them. "Poor old chap!" I soothed them with a vague hope--how many of the missing would turn up again? What I was more anxious about than anything else was, as may be imagined, the general situation. What was happening? I feverishly questioned Langlois. He was a school-master too, but from Paris. Playoust's set had immediately tried to get hold of him, but he made it quite clear that he intended to remain neutral, on good terms with us. He had an interesting head. He was sunburnt, and had intensely blue eyes, a big nose with a narrow bridge, and a determined chin. Besides that, he was slim and muscular, and had a graceful carriage. There was a look of a musketeer or condottiere about him--a look which was deceptive for that matter, as I soon realised. He was a good sort, but nothing beyond that. His intelligence was limited. During his weeks at the depôt everything seemed to have rolled off him, like water off a duck's back, without making the faintest impression. He was eager for news, no doubt, but he was far from attaching to it the tragic and capital importance which clothed the least occurrence in this hour of our history. It was disappointing and exasperating to me. I would have given a lot to meet Fortin and have a talk with him. We had just heard that he had become a humble private again, and was with the reinforcement detachment. However, I set about extracting all the news from Langlois, bit by bit, and finished by attaining my end.