We started off again. Were we going to skirt Paris on the north or the south? We soon found out. The train approached the gradient at Buc. We watched in vain for some aeroplanes. Judsi exclaimed:
"Wot are you thinkin' of! They've all gone orf to Berlin!"
There were brief stops at small stations. The same scene was repeated every time: idlers crowding up to the railings to cheer us and we replying with shouts of "Death to the Bosches!" "Down with the Kaiser!" solely out of politeness, in order not to disappoint all these people who had waited so long. There was no longer the frank enthusiasm there had been just now on leaving F——. The men were getting tired. The Red Cross members who distributed chocolate, fruit, and post-cards in profusion were no longer hailed with the same delight. Loriot and Lamalou ended by grumbling because they were so stingy with the wine.
The night fell, and with it what was left of cheerfulness. Judsi was the last to give in. He picked out well-known airs and set new words to them, ineffable drivel, beyond all description, and probably of his own composition. The coarsest sallies still raised a few laughs. These echoes of an inane merriment were becoming quite unbearable.
I thought of shutting the men up altogether. Guillaumin dissuaded me from doing so:
"Take care you don't get yourself disliked!"
It was getting dark. Corporal Donnadieu lit the section lantern. Where was it to be hung? To that hook in the middle of the ceiling. It swung backwards and forwards giving a flickering light.
Everyone was making preparations now, for going to sleep. A small number occupied the seats, the rest were stretched on the floor. They formed tangled groups in the shadows. Good-humoured elbow digs and expostulations were exchanged.
Guillaumin had lain down beside me, with his own head on his pack, and that of one of his corporals fitted between his knees. He became expansive and exclaimed:
"How's this for up-to-date comfort!"