"Of course!"
We advanced in silence, mechanically keeping our intervals, our columns of four. No more peasants, and only an infinitesimal number of civilians drifted down-stream now. The crowd was swelling though. Transports and teams followed each other, rolling along, slipping and sliding. They were all military-limbered waggons, forage waggons, ambulance waggons, munition waggons, a sutler's van. Battery after battery—an extraordinary state of confusion. Here were mud-crushers whipping horses, some of which fell, there hussars on foot, dragging their worn-out beasts along.
We passed companies lying in the shade of the ditch, and envied them. There had been no halt for us for two hours at least. We had just climbed a hill; I was marching with half-closed eyes. Guillaumin nudged me:
"Heavens above!"
I opened my eyes. A large stretch of country lay before us, a dark undulating plain enamelled with monstrous glares.
I turned towards my companion.
"Villages!" he murmured.
Burning! That woke us up. We slowed down bewildered.
Bouillon said:
"Pore wretches, that's w'y they was doin' a bolt!"