But the remainder kept on running and bouncing until they reached the German works. The “75s” shells had made a mess of the entanglements, and the main trench was a ruin, spotted with corpses.... Bullets whistled, grenades exploded, injured men shrieked.
From a black aperture a bullet missed Corporal Dupin as he passed, bayonet forward, after a flying man. He gave that prey off, threw a bomb in the den, and as soon as it had exploded he rushed in.
Covered with blood, a German officer lay down. He menaced Dupin with his empty pistol, when, realizing that everything was over for him, he threw the gun, with a wild laugh, and defiantly and haughtily looked at Dupin. The cold, blue eyes of the Teuton did not mistake Dupin’s sentiment. To the corporal’s dark, glancing eyes they returned hatred for hatred. Dupin thought that the submarine’s commander must have had the same likeness. Yes, this man would pay dearly for the cold-blooded murderer’s debt. The hour of vengeance had come.
Dupin did not strike yet. He found sweet to contemplate the agony of his enemy.... He thought of torturing the man.... The fellow must suffer....
From loss of blood the German officer suddenly fainted, and Dupin found himself kneeling over the enemy, bathing his wounds, stopping his blood, nursing him as a brother....
Again shrapnel burst. The German artillery was already shelling the conquered trenches. Ready for a new fight, Dupin, before he left the wounded officer, wrapped him in a blanket, left him his own water bottle. A last time he looked at him with a sad but proud smile and said:
“No, we are not the same race. We cannot do the same things.”
And they were his last words, for a bullet went through his heart, and, still smiling, but this time very sweetly, Dupin went to meet the beloved ones.
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