"Shove it on again. Well, how does it feel?"
The friction was actually much lessened.
"It will be the salvation of me, old chap!"
He made a good-natured grimace. I looked at his thick red nose, his sandy moustache with its piteous droop at the corners of his mouth, his oily hair tangled under the cap which was perched on the back of his head. There was a touch of the grotesque in his ugliness at this moment. A blundering simple soul too, and overtalkative. And yet ... what a good sort he was! He had that rarest of virtues, Kindness, the mark of real distinction of soul. What spontaneous gratitude he aroused in me. To think that quite lately I had hardly dared to defend him against Laquarrière's sarcasms. That would all be changed now. To-day my choice was made, and well made.
There seemed to be a lull in the fighting. The cannonade was less violent. I wished for a moment that the struggle might end without us.... Yes, but only on condition that the result was favourable. I was not without apprehensions on that score, for what a repulse that action, described to us the day before, must have been!
Guillaumin was hungry, and did not worry his head about anything else. Now or never was the time to stoke up. Before joining in the dance!
I took his advice. Before starting in the middle of the night, we had been given a cold meal, potatoes, bully beef, and cheese. We had some bread left. Having clubbed our provisions we ate our little feast on the moss.
"Like Robinson Crusoe, what!"