I heard no shots. At the German trench I felt a blow on my shoulder, just as if some one had hit me with a riding whip. But I did not at first realize that I was wounded. Without stopping, we leaped across the trench. When we were across it I felt a sudden catching of the breath, and everything went black before my eyes. On the right was a deep funnel, the crater of a 12-inch shell. I jumped into the crater. The funnel was wide, with crumbling edges, and with a sticky, clayey bottom. I sat down on the damp earth and felt that my arm was very sore. I struck a match and began to smoke. Now I heard the thunder of guns; I distinguished the rattle of howitzers and the whistle of bursting shells. I had a feeling of depression. Involuntarily I closed my eyes. I sat a whole hour unconscious in this way. When I came to myself I saw a German in front of me, a German officer, in a gray-green cloak and with a round cap of the same colour. The officer was standing straight before me, and was looking me in the face. I tried to rise, but he said in French: "You are my prisoner! Sit down!" and he covered me with his revolver. I answered: "Shoot!" I felt certain that he would shoot me. But he unexpectedly lowered his arm. His face was tanned, with thick, dark hair and wide, blue eyes. After a short silence he said: "I could shoot you--but I do not want to. We are both prisoners in this hole!" And he added, saluting: "I am a Captain in the 238th Prussian Regiment; Müller!" I also gave him my name. We were now sitting at opposite sides of the hole, he a German and I a Frenchman. We remained silent. We both felt awkward, and I tried not to look at him. At last he said: "You are wounded?" "Yes." "Allow me! I shall fix a bandage for you!" I answered: "Pray, do not trouble yourself!" But he came over to me and pulled out cotton wadding and bandages. And as he touched me with his hands I experienced a curious transformation. He ceased to be a German, a detested enemy, a man who wanted to shoot me, one of the armed bands whose presence pollutes our land. He was simply Captain Müller, my chance and already kind acquaintance. He bandaged me skillfully and rapidly. When he had finished he smiled, and said in German: "So!" I thanked him in French: "Merci!" Then we sat together, once more in silence. The firing did not diminish, and sometimes the bombs burst near by, quite close to us. The earth trembled, a dark, narrow column rose up, and we were spattered with dirt, with lumps of earth, and smoke. But neither I nor the German stirred. We did not wish to show that we were afraid. Toward evening the fire grew more intense. The German was now listening to the guns. "That was yours; that's mine; that's a 120, that's a 75, that's a 77, that's another 75." My arm was numb and ached severely. I said: "Will you kindly get a flask out of my pocket? I have some cognac."