M. Poisson began again:
“Hut No. 7? Have you here a man named Cuvelier, of the 9th Cuirassiers?”
“No, Monsieur le médecin-chef.”
M. Poisson was delighted with his success.
“Of course! They can’t have him, because he’s dead. I am doing this to satisfy my conscience. I’m made like that.”
We met M. Perrin.
“You see, Perrin,” said the doctor, “in order to be quite sure, I am looking in every hut to see if a Cuvelier may not be anywhere. And I can’t find a man of that name. Of course, I only look where the seriously wounded are quartered. I am not a fool. If he is dead, he must have been seriously wounded.”
“Obviously,” said M. Perrin.
After we had been to all the huts, M. Poisson held himself very proudly, causing many folds in the loose flesh under his chin, and he concluded by saying:
“It’s Cuvelier, sure enough. Now you see what it is to have order. With me it’s not the same as with Ponce and Vieillon, who are awful bunglers.”