It always produces that effect."

He looked around self-approvingly, but no one laughed with him.

Every moment the wounded called for water.

"Drink! Drink!"

When one began, all followed, and the old soldier had certainly
conceived a liking for me, for each time he passed, he presented the
cup.

I did not remain in the shed more than an hour. A dozen ambulances
drew up before the door, and the peasants of the country round, in
their velvet jackets, and large black slouched hats, their whips on
their shoulders, held the horses by the reins. A picket of hussars
arrived soon after, and their officer dismounting, entered and said:

"Excuse me, major, but here is an order to escort twelve wagons of
wounded as far as Lutzen. Is it here that we are to receive them?"

"Yes, it is here," replied the surgeon.

The peasants and the ambulance-drivers, after giving us a last draught
of wine, began carrying us to the wagons. As one was filled, it
departed, and another advanced. I was in the third, seated on the
straw, in the front row, beside a conscript of the Twenty-seventh, who
had lost his right hand; behind was another who had lost a leg; then
came one whose head was laid open, and another whose jaw was broken; so
was the wagon filled.

They had given us our great-coats; but despite them and the sun, which
was shining brightly, we shivered with cold, and left only our noses
and forage-caps, or linen bandages on the splints visible. No one
spoke; each was too much occupied thinking of himself.

At moments I was terribly cold; then flashes of heat would dart through
me, and flush me as in a fever; and indeed it was the beginning of the
fever. But as we left Kaya, I was yet well; I saw everything clearly,
and it was not until we neared Leipzig that I felt indeed sick.

At last we were all placed in the wagons, and arranged according to our
condition--those able to sit up, in the first that set out, the others
stretched in the last, and we started. The hussars rode beside us,
smoking and chatting, paying no attention to us.

In passing through Kaya, I saw all the horrors of war. The village was
but a mass of cinders; the roofs had fallen, and the walls alone
remained standing; the rafters were broken; we could see the remnants
of rooms, stairs, and doors heaped within. The poor villagers, women,
children, and old men, came and went with sorrowful faces. We could
see them going up and down in their houses