extending far away on either side, and dotted here and there with lofty ricks and wooden mills, whose sails were turning. More to the north were rows of telegraph posts, indicating other roads on which the dark lines of other troops on the march could be discerned. Several regiments also cut across the fields in dense masses. In the van, on the left, a brigade of cavalry trotted along, quite dazzling in the sunlight. And the entire horizon, at other times so blank, so mournfully empty and limitless, became animated and populous with these streams of men gushing forth from all directions, these apparently inexhaustible myriads that poured, as it were, out of some gigantic ant-hill.
At about nine o'clock the 106th wheeled to the left, quitting the road to Châlons for another straight, endless, ribbon-like highway, conducting to Suippe. The men were marching in two open files, leaving the centre of the road clear. The officers walked along there at their ease, and Maurice noticed how strongly their thoughtful air contrasted with the good humour and satisfied sprightliness of the men, who were as pleased as children to find themselves on the march again. The squad being almost at the head of the regiment, he also obtained a distant view of M. de Vineuil, and was greatly struck by the gloomy carriage of the colonel's tall, stiff frame, which swayed with the motion of his horse. The band had been packed off to the rear among the sutlers' carts. And accompanying the division came the ambulance vans and equipage train, followed by the convoy of the entire army corps, the forage waggons, the provision vans, the baggage waggons, a stream of vehicles of every description, more than three miles in length, and looking like an interminable tail when, at the few bends of the road, it was possible to obtain any view of it. A herd of cattle brought up the extreme rear in the far distance—a straggling drove of big oxen stamping alone in a cloud of dust; the live, whip-driven meat, as it were, of some warlike migratory people.
Meanwhile, Lapoulle from time to time hoisted up his knapsack by dint of shrugging his shoulders. Under pretence that he was stronger than his comrades, he was often laden with the utensils of the squad, such as the large stew-pot and the water-can. On this occasion he had also been entrusted with the company's spade, which he had been told it was an honour to carry. He did not complain, however; in fact, he was laughing at a song with which Loubet, the tenor of the squad, was enlivening the long tramp. Loubet's knapsack, by the way, was celebrated for its contents, which comprised something of everything: linen, spare shoes, needles and thread, brushes, chocolate, a metal cup, a spoon and fork, without counting the regulation provisions, biscuits and coffee; and, although he also had his cartridges inside it, and a rolled blanket, a shelter tent and pegs strapped to it outside, the whole seemed to be wonderfully light, so accomplished was he in the art of packing.
'A beastly part!' muttered Chouteau, from time to time, as he cast a disdainful glance at the mournful plains of 'la Champagne pouilleuse.'
The vast expanses of chalky soil still stretched out on either side in endless monotony. Not a farm nor a human being was to be seen; nothing but some flights of crows dotting the grey immensity. Afar off, on the left, some dark green pine woods crowned the gentle undulations that limited the horizon; whilst on the right a long line of trees indicated the course of the river Vesle; and on that side, for the last league or so, some dense smoke had been seen rising from behind the hills, its mingled coils at last blotting out the horizon with the huge, frightful cloud of a conflagration.
'What's burning over there?' the men asked on every side.
The explanation promptly sped from the van to the rear of the column. It was the camp of Châlons which had been blazing for two days past, set on fire, as it was said, by the Emperor's orders, so that the wealth of supplies gathered together there might not fall into the enemy's hands. The rear-guard cavalry had been instructed to fire both a huge wooden building called the Yellow Magazine, which was full of tents, pickets, and matting, and another large closed shed known as the New Magazine, in which shoes, blankets and mess utensils were stored in sufficient quantities to equip another hundred thousand men. The ricks of forage, which had also been fired, smoked like gigantic torches; and the army, now marching across the vast, dreary plain, became sadly silent at sight of the livid, whirling smoke-clouds, which spread out from behind the distant hills, and slowly covered the sky with a veil of irreparable mourning. Under the glaring August sun no sound was to be heard save the regular tramp-tramp of the march, but the men's faces were persistently turned towards the spreading smoke, which during another league or so seemed to be pursuing the column as though to enshroud it in the cloudy gloom of disaster.
Gaiety returned at the midday halt, when the men, whilst eating a morsel, sat and rested on their knapsacks among some stubble. The large square biscuits were simply intended for steeping in the soupe, but the little round ones were for eating dry, and, being light and crisp, were quite nice. Their only fault was that they made one terribly thirsty. At his comrades' request, Pache now sang a hymn, which the squad took up in chorus. Jean, smiling good-naturedly, let them do so, whilst Maurice grew more and more confident at sight of the general flow of spirits, the good order, and good humour that prevailed during this first day of the march. And the remainder of the allotted distance was accomplished in the same vigorous fashion, though the last five miles proved very trying. They had left the village of Prosnes on their right, and had quitted the high road to cut across some uncultivated ground, a sandy lande planted with copses of pine trees, between which wound the entire division, followed by the interminable convoy, the men sinking in the sand up to their ankles. The solitude now seemed to have become more vast, and the only living creatures they encountered were some emaciated sheep, guarded by a big black dog.
At last, at about four o'clock, the 106th halted at Dontrien, a village on the banks of the Suippe. The little river meanders between tufts of foliage, and the old church stands in a graveyard, which a gigantic horse-chestnut tree fairly covers with its spreading shade. The regiment pitched its tents in a sloping meadow on the left bank of the stream. According to the officers, the four army corps would bivouac that night along the line of the Suippe from Auberive to Heutrégiville, by way of Dontrien, Béthiniville and Pont-Faverger, with a front extending along a distance of nearly five leagues.
Gaude immediately sounded the call to rations, and Jean, the great purveyor in ordinary, ever on the alert, had to hurry off, taking Lapoulle with him. They returned in half an hour's time with a rib of beef and a faggot of wood. Three oxen of the drove that followed in the rear of the army had already been slaughtered and cut up. Lapoulle then had to go off again to fetch the bread which had been baking since noon in the village ovens. Excepting wine and tobacco, which were never once distributed during the whole period, there was on this occasion an abundance of everything.
Jean, on his return, had found Chouteau engaged in pitching the tent with Pache's assistance. He looked at them for a moment like an experienced old soldier who considered they were making a mess of the job, and finally remarked: 'Well, that'll do since it's going to be fine to-night. But if it were windy we should all be blown into the river. I shall have to teach you how to pitch the tent properly.'
Then he thought of sending Maurice to fetch some water in the large can, but he saw that the young fellow had seated himself on the grass, and had taken off his shoe to examine his right foot. 'Hallo! what's up?' asked Jean.
'The counter has rubbed the skin off my heel. My other shoes were going to pieces, and at Rheims, stupidly enough, I chose these because they were just my size. I ought to have taken a larger pair.'
Kneeling down, Jean took hold of Maurice's foot and turned it round as gently as though he were dealing with a child. 'It isn't a laughing matter,' he said, shaking his head; 'you must be careful. A soldier who can't depend on his feet may just as well be chucked on a rubbish heap. My captain was always saying, out in Italy, that battles are won with men's legs.'
Thereupon, Jean sent Pache to fetch the water, which, after all, was an easy task, since the river was only some fifty yards away. Meantime, Loubet, having lighted the wood in a hole which he had dug in the ground, was able to set the large pot upon it, dropping the meat, which
