August 12th-13th
ON THE WAY TO THE FIRING LINE
My brother! My brother killed! I went off, without a word in reply, and lost myself in the darkness. I was stupefied. My brother killed! I was on the point of fainting. And then, in a few minutes, I regained my control. I had the impression of having advanced a stage; of an awakening.
Finished, and done with my rôle as on-looker in all these things. No more detached, distant pity for me like that with which I had been inspired by those dying men just now. How my blood rushed through my veins. I conjured up a vision of my brother alive, leading his men. I saw him totter and fall. They picked him up, stone dead! With a hole through his forehead! That was the end. There was no more to be done but to make the sign of the cross over all that remained of him!
Henriot passed me again, buckling the strap of his revolver. He asked me casually:
"Well, did you speak to him?"
I was on the point of saying to him.