view, rough-modeled, and vast as the ruins of a town. One can see
the beginning of unending rows of objects, finally plunged in night.
One guesses what the great bulks may be whose outermost outlines
flash forth from a black abyss of the unknown.

On our left, detachments of cavalry and infantry move ever forward
like a ponderous flood. We hear the diffused obscurity of voices. We
see some ranks delineated by a flash of phosphorescent light or a
ruddy glimmering, and we listen to long-drawn trails of noise.

Up the gangways of the vans whose gray trunks and black mouths one
sees by the dancing and smoking flame of torches, artillerymen are
leading horses. There are appeals and shouts, a frantic trampling of
conflict, and the angry kicking of some restive animal--insulted by
its guide--against the panels of the van where he is cloistered.

Not far away, they are putting wagons on to railway trucks. Swarming
humanity surrounds a hill of trusses of fodder. A scattered
multitude furiously attacks great strata of bales.

"That's three hours we've been on our pins," sighs Paradis.

"And those, there, what are they?" In some snatches of light we see
a group of goblins, surrounded by glowworms and carrying strange
instruments, come out and then disappear.

"That's the searchlight section," says Cocon.

"You've got your considering cap on, camarade; what's it about?"