It was a fine sight to see these two powerful athletes rooted to the ground in grim silence, broken only by the impact of hands against muscular backs. At last Jeannot managed to encircle Piatte's waist, but, before he had succeeded in doing so, Piatte had caught him round the neck; for a second they were entangled, but Jeannot threw his legs up, and, turning a back somersault, slipped his hand from Piatte's arm and fell on his feet, standing in front of his adversary. Piatte had meanwhile remained on his knees, and, with tremendous efforts, Jeannot tried to move him, first by seizing him by the waist, then by the shoulders. But Piatte remained immovable as a rock. He told me afterwards that his chief object was to let Jeannot exhaust himself while he was saving his own wind.
This struggle lasted for a few minutes more, when Jeannot suddenly slipped on the damp cement floor, and, to save himself from being seized by Piatte, he flung himself away, and rolled behind his adversary. In an instant both men were on their legs once more, Piatte as cool as when he had first begun, Jeannot panting heavily. For a short time they both stood feinting, when Piatte, changing his tactics, made a rush at the Parisian giant, and, before the latter knew where he was, he had been lifted in the air and heavily thrown on his back with Piatte on the top of him. In order to well assert his victory, Piatte twice lifted Jeannot bodily, and made his two shoulders touch the ground. Then the victor stood up, greeted by our unanimous applause. Titi handed over to him a flask of brandy he had managed to smuggle in, and, after taking a long pull, Piatte wiped his mouth and, turning round, said, "Now it's your turn, Jeannot." It was only then that we noticed that Jeannot was lying where he had been felled, and we all feared that he might be seriously injured. Piatte hastened to his side, and was about to lift him when Jeannot opened his eyes and jumped up unaided. Turning towards Piatte, he extended his hand to him. "Shake hands," he said; "you are the first man who has ever felled Jeannot the butcher; but you're a good 'un; you fight fair, and I like that; but you fairly took the wind out of me that last go. Now, boys," he went on, "to show you that I don't bear any grudge, I'll pay my footing, and I'll be as generous as that blasted millionaire of a Volontaire. Here goes 'a hind wheel,' and good health to you all." So saying, he took a long pull at the flask which Titi had handed over to him. The combatants then wiped off the blood that ran from a good many scratches on their bodies, and donned their garments once more. In the excitement of the contest the fourth recruit was forgotten, and, as he hailed from Normandy (the Scotland of France), he kept cannily in the background, and so avoided paying his footing.
Titi then suggested that we should have a song or two, and it was fully midnight when, the candle having died out, we all tried to go to sleep. The night was bitterly cold, and as we had no blankets to cover ourselves with, we all slept huddled together like sardines in a tin. Having been awake since 5 A.M., I was quite exhausted, and soon dropped off to sleep, but only to wake up almost immediately with a horrid sensation that something had run over my face. I awoke my faithful Titi, who was sleeping beside me.
"Got any matches?" I asked hurriedly.
"Yes, why—want a smoke?" he replied, handing me a match.
Just as I was going to sit up to strike the match something else stirred my hair. When I had obtained a light I looked round, and to my disgust I saw half a dozen huge rats running about over my companions' bodies.
"Ah, it's the rats that worry you," said Titi; "you'll soon get accustomed to them—the place swarms with those fellows."
A nice prospect indeed! Every time I tried to go to sleep I was aroused by a rat cantering over my face, so at last I determined to sit up, gladly accepting Titi's offer of tobacco and cigarette-papers.
"The Sergeant of the Guard to-night is a good sort," Titi told me, "and he won't say anything if he smells a whiff of smoke."
At 2.30 A.M. the Sergeant turned up, and when he ordered us to get up and to clear out, I was already rejoicing at the idea that I should be able to spend a few hours in bed: but I was sorely disappointed when we were taken to the pump and ordered to fill the two huge tanks where the chargers had to be watered in the morning. The night—it was early in December—was a bitterly cold one, and the nipping wind pierced us to the bones in the intervals between our turns at the pump.