At six in the morning Varlet enters like a whirlwind—
"Get up at once, lazy-bones! Muster in half an hour."
"Bah! You're joking!"
"Come now; quick, into your clothes! We are going back to the trenches."
So this is the promised eventuality!
At half-past six the company musters in a farmyard. The order to leave has not yet come. Seated on our haversacks, we snatch a hasty breakfast. Fortunately, Reymond has received some good cigars, which he passes round. He sings us a Spanish song—
Padre capucino mata su mujer
La corta en pedazos, la pone a cocer
Gente que pasaba olia tocino:
Era la mujer del padre capucino.
This means: "The Capuchin monk has killed his wife, cut her in pieces and set her to cook. The passers-by say there is a smell of burning fat. That's what is left of the wife of the Capuchin monk."
This absurd song puts us in good humour.