king Prosper by the hand;
"perhaps they will find something for you to do down yonder, after all."

But the chasseur appeared disgusted with the task assigned him. He sadly
stroked Poulet's neck and answered:

"Ah, what's the use talking! they kill our horses and let us rot in
idleness. It is sickening."

When Maurice took off his shoe that evening to have a look at his foot,
which was aching and throbbing feverishly, the skin came with it; the
blood spurted forth and he uttered a cry of pain. Jean was standing by,
and exhibited much pity and concern.

"Look here, that is becoming serious; you are going to lie right down
and not attempt to move. That foot of yours must be attended to. Let me
see it."

He knelt down, washed the sore with his own hands and bound it up
with some clean linen that he took from his knapsack. He displayed the
gentleness of a woman and the deftness of a surgeon, whose big fingers
can be so pliant when necessity requires it.

A great wave of tenderness swept over Maurice, his eyes were dimmed
with tears, the familiar _thou_ rose from his heart to his lips with an
irresistible impulse of affection, as if in that peasant whom he once
had hated and abhorred, whom only yesterday he had despised, he had
discovered a long lost brother.

"Thou art a good fellow, thou! Thanks, good friend."

And Jean, too, looking very happy, dropped into the second person
singular, with his tranquil smile.

"Now, my little one, wilt thou have a cigarette? I have some tobacco
left."

V.

On the morning of the following day, the 26th, Maurice arose with
stiffened limbs and an aching back, the result of his night under the
tent. He was not accustomed yet to sleeping on the bare ground; orders
had been given before the men turned in that they were not to remove
their shoes, and during the night the sergeants had gone the rounds,
feeling in the darkness to see if all were properly shod and gaitered,
so that his foot was much inflamed and very painful. In addition to his
other troubles he had imprudently stretched his legs outside the canvas
to relieve their cramped feeling and taken cold in them.

Jean said as soon as he set eyes on him:

"If we are to do any marching to-day, my lad, you had better see the
surgeon and get him to give you a place in one of the wagons."

But no one seemed to know what were the plans for the day, and the most
conflicting reports prevailed. It appeared for a moment as if