Captain Beaudoin, too, kept his legs like a man, but never opened his
lips to say an encouraging word to his men, having nothing in common
with them. He appeared nervous and unable to remain long in one place,
striding up and down the field, impatiently awaiting orders.

No orders came, nothing occurred to relieve their suspense. Maurice's
knapsack was causing him horrible suffering; it seemed to be crushing
his back and chest in that recumbent position, so painful when
maintained for any length of time. The men had been cautioned against
throwing away their sacks unless in case of actual necessity, and he
kept turning over, first on his right side, then on the left, to ease
himself a moment of his burden by resting it on the ground. The shells
continued to fall around them, but the German gunners did not succeed
in getting the exact range; no one was killed after the poor fellow
who lay there on his stomach with his skull fractured.

"Say, is this thing to last all day?" Maurice finally asked Jean, in
sheer desperation.

"Like enough. At Solferino they put us in a field of carrots, and
there we stayed five mortal hours with our noses to the ground." Then
he added, like the sensible fellow he was: "Why do you grumble? we are
not so badly off here. You will have an opportunity to distinguish
yourself before the day is over. Let everyone have his chance, don't
you see; if we should all be killed at the beginning there would be
none left for the end."

"Look," Maurice abruptly broke in, "look at that smoke over Hattoy.
They have taken Hattoy; we shall have plenty of music to dance to