He was ordered confinement to barracks, but went out all the same. Ravelli who had met him in the village had him arrested and taken to the guard-room where he was sentenced by the captain to four days' confinement. Lamalou commiserated him quite openly. "That's what it is to be so bloomin' good-natured. Like to see 'em darin' to put upon me like that!" The regimental sergeant-major who overheard him gave him a furious look, but actually was afraid to say anything and only revenged himself by slyly warning him for the next fatigue. In the afternoon Lieutenant Henriot came to have a chat with Guillaumin and me. I noticed his anxiety to cause no more jealousy. Catching sight of Descroix and Humel who were getting some fresh air in the yard, he called them. In this way the circle became enlarged. Too much for me! I bolted. When Guillaumin came to find me again, I put on a sarcastic tone: "Thrilling, what?" "Oh ... quite interesting! You seemed to be listening all right yesterday!" "Couldn't help myself!" I undertook to quote the conversation I had had the day before with the little subaltern. To be honest, I exaggerated grossly. I ridiculed poor Henriot, and put on a tremolo, to recall his words about his birthplace where he taught, where his father was buried. It seemed as if Guillaumin only half liked this skit. He stopped me. "He may not be a genius, but he's quite a good sort." I was discontented with myself and with him. I expected that we should be sent to relieve the 21st in the trenches. I was mistaken. It was the 23rd. Our turn was skipped. I don't know why. This cannonade which still persisted and seemed to be drawing nearer, unnerved me. Where were they fighting? What approximately were the lines of tactical defence? De Valpic to whom I happened to put the question, informed me. "The Loison and the Othain." "What are they?" "Tributaries of the Meuse. They both join the Chiers, near Montmédy." "You are well up in it." He smiled; he was going in to lie down as usual. The firing was still going on. I said to Bouillon: "We may be going up one of these days!" "Where to?" "Into the firing line." "Good luck!" "Really, good luck?" "The sooner we go there, the sooner the war will be over!" "But ... supposing we stay there?" "Oh well, one end's as good as another!" * * * * * Towards evening someone announced that there was a convoy of wounded on the road. Frémont happened to be beside me. I took him by the arm: "Are you coming to have a look?" He hesitated. I took him along. In the principal street a string of carts was filing past, carrying unearthly beings with sunken eyes, and blackened, ravaged faces. They were silent and had dirty bandages, some on their heads and some on their arms. Our _poilus_ had hurried up, and were forming a hedge. They ventured to question those who seemed the least affected. "Well, lads? So you've given 'em a knock?"