"Where the devil are the stretcher-bearers!"
... (Censored.) ...
"They are like fleas—you can never find them when you look for them."
And before us the whole plain wrapped in darkness seems to shiver from the agony of those undressed wounds.
Voices soft, weary from having cried so long:
"... (Censored.) ...
....?"
"Mother, oh, mother!"
"Jeanne, little Jeanne.... Oh! say that you hear me, my Jeanne!"
"I am thirsty.... I am thirsty.... I am thirsty.... I am thirsty...."