"It is Lieutenant Porchon."
In this way his progress is announced, causing calmness and confidence right along the line.
At last he returns and jumps down into the trench between Boulier and myself.
"Ouf!" he exclaimed, "but things were looking rather nasty with us. I believe I was right in making my little tour. Half-past two in the morning; time is drawing on. All will go well now until daylight."
Boulier suddenly exclaimed:
"All the same, Lieutenant, it is not an ordinary thing that you have done. There were a thousand chances of your being wounded. And that would have been my fault, the fault of we good-for-nothings. Yes, it would have been our fault—don't let us talk about it!"
"To every man his business," replied Porchon. "If I had been you, Boulier, I would not have risked my skin as I have done. Just reflect a little, and you will understand."
Then, laughing still that laugh of a twenty-year-old boy, he taps me on the shoulder and says:
"To-day is the 5th, the day of our relief. Unless I am very much mistaken we shall sleep to-night in our beds. Good-bye for the moment. I am going back to my men."
Boulier, near me, his elbows on the parapet, watched him vanish amid the shadows. And he repeated to himself softly and without ceasing: