abandon that station? Why say so bluntly, "To-morrow you will have no
need to go so far north to bring supplies. We shall come nearer to
you; _we_ shall withdraw ..."?

There I was again, allowing my mind to wander and to suffer. I tried
to learn by what means I could get some information about my regiment.

"Well, it's very simple," said the Artillery lieutenant, very kindly.
"Your commissariat officer will certainly have to come with his convoy
to fetch supplies. Try to get hold of him. He will tell you all about
it."

I grasped his hand and went off, glad indeed at the thought of seeing
my regiment's uniform once more. And Providence seemed to guide me,
for I thought I saw the very man I was looking for in the little
booking office. But I had some difficulty in recognising him. He
looked aged and worn. His beard had grown quite grey. Bending over the
sill of the ticket office, he was in the act of spreading the contents
of a box of sardines upon a slice of bread. Yes, it was he. How tired
and disheartened he looked! I pushed the door open and rushed in:

"_Bonjour! Comment va?_"

"Ah!... It's you! What have you come here for, my poor fellow? Ah!
Things aren't looking very rosy...."

I plied him with questions, and he answered in short incoherent
sentences:

"Charleroi? Don't talk of it!... Our men? Grand!... A hecatomb....