On days such as these, when, to our European constitutions, the air seems too heavy to breathe, when life ebbs away, and activity of any description is beyond our strength—on days such as these, if you happen to be lying asleep on a river-boat, in the shade of a moistened awning, you will often be wakened out of your unquiet midday sleep by the shouting and whistling of the rowers; by the noise of water rushing by under the feverish strokes of the paddle. This is a company of pirogues, passing by, striving in fierce contest under a leaden sky. And the negro population has roused itself from sleep, and is standing in crowds on the beach. The spectators encourage the competitors with loud clamour, and out there, as with us, the victors are received with clapping of hands, and the vanquished with shouts of derision. XIV Jean did not put in more time at the spahis’ barracks than was required for the exact discharge of his duties, and often his comrades would take his place. His commanding officers shut their eyes to these arrangements, which permitted him to spend nearly the whole of his day in his private lodging. He was now generally liked. The charm of his intelligence and integrity, the charm of his personal appearance, of his voice and bearing, gradually brought everyone under an influence which was unconsciously exercised. In the end, in spite of everything Jean had won for himself confidence and esteem, and had attained a kind of privileged position, which allowed him almost complete liberty and independence. He knew how to perform the duties of a punctual, well-disciplined soldier, and at the same time to remain almost entirely his own master. XV One evening Jean returned to quarters when retreat was sounded. The old barracks no longer wore their habitual air of dejection. Men were standing in groups in the courtyard, talking excitedly. Spahis were running up and downstairs four steps at a time, as if possessed with wild joy. It was obvious that there was something in the air—something new. “Great news for you, Peyral,” cried Muller the Alsatian, “you are off to-morrow, off to Algiers, lucky fellow.” Twelve new spahis had arrived from France by the steamer from Dakar; twelve of the senior spahis (of whom Jean was one) were to have the privilege of completing their term of service in Algiers. To-morrow evening they were to leave for Dakar. At Dakar they would embark on the French mailboat for Bordeaux, thence they would proceed by the southern route to Marseilles, with halts on the way, affording those among them, who were possessed of hearth and home, an opportunity of dispersing and of paying them a visit. At Marseilles they would embark on the mailboat bound for Algiers—a land of Cockayne for spahis, where the last years of their service would pass like a dream. XVI