"Is that all?" asked Marcel, beginning to whistle a gay dancing-tune which some newly arrived officers had brought over from London.
"No, it is not," I replied. "I said I wished to be myself again, and that I mean to be."
"I think I shall do likewise," said Marcel, cutting off his tune in the beginning. "I am tired of this piece of stage-play myself, but I wanted you to say so first."
"It is time to leave it off," I added, "and go back to our duty."
"You speak truly," said Marcel. "It would not be pleasant to be killed by American bullets, or be forced to fire upon our old comrades. And yet the adventure has not been without interest. Moreover, let it not be forgotten that we have had plenty to eat, a good luck which we knew not for two years before."
He said the last in such a whimsical tone of regret that I laughed despite myself.
"There is no need to laugh," said Marcel. "A good dinner is a great item to a starving man, and, as you know, I am not without experience in the matter of starvation."
Wherein Marcel spoke the truth, for during our long campaigns hunger often vexed us more sorely than the battle.
"I shall be glad to see our comrades and to serve with them again. When will we have a chance to leave?" he asked.