Pray what were we doing but running to shut ourselves up in a camp? How many sad precedents there were for that? Metz, Port Arthur, Adrianople ... I recalled the changed attitude of those of my companions who were capable of reasoning. De Valpic, prostrate. Was it due only to weariness? Guillaumin was taciturn and reserved, and the officers silent. The captain? We had seen very little of him--once or twice gloomily gnawing his moustache. What baleful influence was in the air? I was suddenly suffocated by it. Where were they taking us now? It was Prunelle who put us on the track. He recognised the country, it was in the neighbourhood of Neuilly-Plaisance. There was a tiny village there where he went every Saturday evening, and quite near by, a topping place for fishing. May I be hung if he did not begin to prate of perch and roach? There was a halt at last. I took a turn. A shadow was silhouetted in front of me: "Sergeant!" "Who goes there?" Oh, I recognised him.... "That you, Donnadieu?" It was my corporal, the voluntary casualty of Mangiennes! "I've come back, Sergeant," he said. "Sergeant...." He stopped, choking.... "Did you tell the others?" "Tell them what?" "How I ... was wounded?" "No." I replied coldly. "I told no one." My glance mechanically sought his hand. He explained: "Two fingers gone, that's all! I've asked them not to discharge me, as I can hold my rifle! I've been waiting for you here for two days...." He began again: "Sergeant, I was watching for you ... I wanted to see you before the others ... because ... because...." He swallowed: "If the thing had got about ... I should have put a bullet through my head!" His tone was abrupt, and sincere. A man who would recover himself. Why could I not find a hearty word for him? "Where were you looked after?" "At the field hospital.... A dozen or so out of the company were there." "Do you know what became of...?" He read my thoughts.... "Sergeant Frémont?" "Frémont, yes?" "He died ... in two days. They couldn't move him." I left him. Little Frémont dead! It seemed impossible, and yet I had foreseen it. The tragic destiny weighed on us all! Again I saw him, this comrade of my youth, seated on the bench in the garden, beside his love, with the clear eyes.... I went back to my companions. Guillaumin and De Valpic were together, and Humel not far away. I called him, and told them the sad news, in an under-tone. "It's quite certain then?" Humel fixed his eyes, in which I read anxiety and terror, on me. Poor boy! He, especially, needed a comforting word. I could not furnish it. We were all four silent. Then De Valpic tried to dispel the gloom, by referring to some incident or other on the journey. He adopted a joking tone. But his strength failed him, his cough put an end to his story. And the order came to start again.