I signed to them to be silent. Guillaumin shook my hand.
"You deserve it, Michel."
I only answered by a shake of the head. We started off again, and I was thankful that my cap threw my face into shadow. Nobody guessed that my eyes were wet. Oh, how extraordinarily buoyant, how strong I felt, both physically and morally!
The last barrier had fallen between these men's caste and mine. No more domination imposed by chance or force. I was the leader they would have chosen, just as I was the leader imposed upon them.
This was the only legitimate, the only true authority.
We were again traversing the same boundless plain, which yesterday had seen us braving the Teuton artillery, but this time in a slightly oblique line. No shells escorted us, for a change! How good it seemed.
We were marching at a smart pace, and had put not far off ten kilometres behind us. The poilus were reviving. Their behaviour delighted me. They marched with a will across the dry stubble. Judsi began to rag:
"If only I'd 'a thought o' bringing my grub."
Bouguet still kept up—a miracle of energy. He had got his arm in a sling. He was only sorry—no one could guess it however long they tried—that he was not allowed to sing.
We had had nothing to eat for forty-eight hours, and had been fighting for thirty hours almost uninterruptedly.