men's ward says to us in a small flute-like voice:

"Soldiers, gentlemen, you were very cold last night, but you are going
to have a good bed."

And she leads us into a great room where three night lamps, dimly
lighted, hang from the ceiling. I have a white bed, I sink with delight
between the sheets that still smell fresh with the odor of washing.
We hear nothing but the breathing or the snoring of the sleepers. I am
quite warm, my eyes close, I know no longer where I am, when a prolonged
chuckling awakes me. I open one eye and I perceive at the foot of my bed
an individual who is looking down at me. I sit up in bed. I see before
me an old man, tall, lean, his eyes haggard, lips slobbering into a
rough beard. I ask what he wants of me. No answer! I cry out: "Go away!
Let me sleep!"

He shows me his fist. I suspect him to be a lunatic. I roll up my towel,
at the end of which I quietly twist a knot; he advances one step; I leap
to the floor; I parry the fisticuff he aims at me, and with the towel I
deal him a return blow full in the left eye. He sees thirty candles,
he throws himself at me; I draw back and let fly a vigorous kick in
the stomach. He tumbles, carrying with him a chair that rebounds;
the dormitory is awakened; Francis runs up in his shirt to lend me
assistance; the sister arrives; the nurses dart upon the madman, whom
they flog and succeed with great difficulty in putting in bed again. The
aspect of the dormitory was eminently ludicrous; to the gloom of faded
rose, which the dying night lamps had spread around them, succeeded the
flaming of three lanterns. The black ceiling, with its rings of light
that danced above the burning wicks, glittered now with its tints of
freshly spread plaster. The sick men, a collection of Punch and Judies
without age, had clutched the piece of wood that hung at the end of a
cord above their beds, hung on to it with one hand, and with the other
made gestures of terror. At that sight my anger cools, I split with
laughter, the painter suffocates, it is only the sister who preserves
her gravity and succeeds by force of threats and entreaties in restoring
order in the room.

Night came to an end, for good or ill; in the morning at six o'clock
the rattle of a drum assembled us, the director called off the roll. We
start for Rouen, Arrived in that city, an officer tells the unfortunate
man in charge of us that the hospital is full and can not take us in.
Meanwhile we have an hour