My nerves were on edge. I don't know what put the whim into my head, but I gave a dry description of the scene at which I had assisted, the verdict given by the Medical Officer, and the man's recriminations, swearing that he would make a point of falling at the first shot. Loriot was hugging himself and pretending to be in awful pain. The captain did not pronounce an opinion. "Stay with him, Sergeant; you will report him to the Medical Officer." So we waited. Loriot sulking and livid with rage. I irritated at the thought that this task ought to have fallen to Playoust, the sergeant of the day. The companies, as they marched past included us in the same glance of ironical pity. Surgeon-Major Bouchut recognised his "client," as he called him, at the first glance. "Ah! It's hurting you, is it? Easy enough to say so! I can't examine you here. Come along, jump in there! We shall soon see!" Under my very eyes, Loriot hoisted himself up into the ambulance, settled himself down comfortably, and began to chat with the orderlies. Infuriated by my own stupidity and the delay it had cost me, I hurried on. The road went up and up. I began to experience the smothered sensation in the shoulders and chest caused by having to carry a pack. Every hundred yards--and what a bore it was--the buckle of my sling came undone, as the point was blunted and did not catch properly, and the rifle slipped. An inconvenience which could not be remedied, and which seemed likely to pursue me throughout the campaign. It was about four o'clock; the sun was still blazing, drops of perspiration gathered inside the men's caps and occasionally trickled on to the ground. To think that this march was nothing: mere child's play. The worst of it was that just as I was about to catch the others up, my right foot began to feel sore. I remembered that the evening they had delivered these boots.... At the first halt I quickly took off both boot and putties. The inspection filled me with consternation. I had hoped my stocking alone was responsible for it.... Not at all, there was no irksome fold. It was the counter right enough. What was to be done? The fatal blister was gathering. The prospect of hours of atrocious pain stared me in the face. The little courage I had oozed away. I was dying of thirst; I poured out a cupful. The water was warm, but it refreshed me all the same. Catching sight of De Valpic, lying down with sunken cheeks, I went up to him. "De Valpic?" He opened his eyes. "Will you have ... a drink?" "But you...?" "I've got plenty, don't you worry. I noticed ... your water-bottle is leaking, isn't it?" "Yes, I don't know how it happened. It's very troublesome." "Hand me your drinking cup. There now. Wait a minute!" I half-filled it for him, added a few drops of Ricqles, and pulling my mess-tin out of my haversack offered him some sugar. He took two pieces, but greedily drank a mouthful without waiting for it to melt.