The distant voice of the bugles only reached us in snatches now, but we marched in step all the same. The collective excitement went to my head. I marched with my eye fixed in front of me, my rifle glued to my shoulder, a soldier among these soldiers.
When we got into the Avenue de la Gare, I caught sight of De Valpic, guide to the 2nd section. He had half-turned round, and was leaning to one side, with an anxious expression. I suddenly thought of his water-bottle, filled just as we were leaving. Drops must be trickling from it now at every step.
I was ashamed of myself. I despised myself. If I did not go quite as far as to vow to make amends for this villainy—and how I should have set about it I do not know—at least I swore that it should be my last; yes, the very last.
I was going to be born anew, and quite different. My heart was beating more warmly. Carried away by the rapidity of the pace, uplifted by the untiring acclamations of the crowd, it seemed to me that I was out-distancing the man I had been.
August 9th-12th