"Well, what is wrong with the poor heel?"

Finally, when he is tired of singing, he murmurs softly and
regularly:

"They don't know how that wretched knee hurts me... they don't
know how it hurts me."

Lerondeau, who is, and always will be, a little boy compared with
Carre, is very poor in the matter of cries. But when he hears his
complaints, he checks his own cries, Borrows them. Accordingly, I
hear him beginning:

"Oh, my poor knee! ... They don't know it hurts!"

One morning when he was shouting this at the top of his voice, I
asked him gravely:

"Why do you make the same complaints as Carre?"

Marie is only a peasant, but he showed me a face that was really
offended:

"It's not true. I don't say the same things."

I said no more, for there are no souls so rugged that they cannot
feel certain stings.

Marie has told me the story of his life and of his campaign. As he
is not very eloquent, It was for the most part a confused murmur