We sat at table around the lamp, and good Maman Cheveret had just brought in the steaming soup. Right away towards the east we heard the dull roll of the cannon. Good Monsieur Cheveret had just brought up from his cellar a venerable bottle of his best Burgundy, and, at the invitation of the Captain, he sat down to drink a glass with us, smoking his cherry-wood pipe and listening with delight to our merry chat.
Gosset was in his kitchen next door preparing a delicious piece of beef à la mode and at the same time telling Maman Cheveret about his exploits of the past month.
We heard the men of the first troop cracking their jokes in the yard as they ate their rations and emptied their pannikin of wine under a brilliant moon.
Down in the valley on the banks of the murmuring Vesle, songs and laughter floated up to us from the artillery park.
And the village itself, shining under the starlit sky, seemed bathed in an atmosphere of cheerfulness, courage and confidence.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] All numerals relate to stories herein told—not to chapters from original sources.