We expected to be picked up by the battalion that same morning, to continue the march. Nothing came of it. We were simply relieved about two o'clock by the 2nd platoon. Annoyance on the part of Henriot. He questioned Lieutenant Delafosse who succeeded him. The latter knew nothing about it, nothing at all! He was yawning. He noted the sentry's orders with a bored expression.
We rejoined the rest of the company at the farm where they remained in support of the outposts. For the first time in four days I was able to indulge in a wash and a change of linen. The joy of it. Bouillon rolled my things up into a parcel and carried them off. He was left busy all the afternoon washing, cleaning, and brushing them, while I slept on the straw.
When I woke Guillaumin announced:
"I say, we're going a bust this evening!"
He and Breton had been to "get round" the farmer's wife, who for a comparatively moderate sum had consented to hand over a couple of fine rabbits.
"How many of us will there be for them?"
"Eight.... No; nine, with the sergeant-major."
[Pg 266]
Oh "that lot" was going to join us? Yes, Guillaumin, who bore no grudge, had invited them. He explained that we would go shares; it would come cheaper like that!
"Haven't I done right?"
I gave my approval. I liked to think it might be the beginning of a renewal of cordiality.
Guillaumin had introduced Gaufrèteaux to the farmeress, who having quickly known him for what he was, a real virtuoso of the frying-pan and casserole, had given him a free hand. She had no reason to repent it, as she was invited to join us and share the feast. Rabbit à la Bordelaise, a cro?te aux champignons, and ham à la Proven?ale reminded her of the cheer at her sister's wedding.
Playoust had persuaded her to bring out some wine. It was pronounced excellent. Much flattered, she announced her intention of giving it to us free of charge. We cheered her. We touched glasses again and again, and drank to the health of her boy, who had left on the third day of mobilisation to join her father, one of the heroes of the year '70, in the Zouaves. I am not sure that we did not drink to the health of her deceased husband.
The wag of the evening was Playoust. There was no denying that the fellow was really funny when he liked. He hummed and sang and imitated the calls of animals. And between times he got Hourcade to take some powdered chalk thinking it was castor sugar, and an egg, taken from a setting hen, in an egg cup (the chicken was in it!).
I forget how it was that he came to jeer, in pretty strong terms too, at Henriot. Humel immediately backed him up; the battalion sergeant-major, who had[Pg 267] drunk rather more than was wise, let him have his say, and winked, and even went as far as to put in a word himself. The poor lieutenant was laughed at for his strategical pretensions, in a really unkind manner. I was surprised. I should have thought that he would have found grace at the hands of these fellows for whom he was always doing good turns. Oh, ah! Grace! Playoust went off on a new tack, and talked of his behaviour under fire. It was grotesque. Beat everything! He had let his platoon go hang, had chucked himself into a hole, and left the others to get along as best they could.
He raised howls of laughter, and by Jove, I joined in. There was some truth in what he said after all. Guillaumin alone protested vigorously and courageously but unfortunately he embarked upon a verbose vindication which tended to prove that true courage consists precisely in being afraid....
"Listen to the staff-officer!"
He was hooted and pelted with bread pellets, and finally reduced to silence. Dessert time. The bottles went on circulating. The wine had gone to my head. I hazarded a few facile pleasantries, which were greeted with roars of laughter, which spurred my malice on to further efforts. I set myself to rival Playoust's buffoonery. He gained a momentary advantage by imitating the various phases of a pig fight. We had to go to the help of the farmeress who was choking with laughter. Then I played the ventriloquist, one of my parlour tricks. I gave a three-part scene. Our hostess again grew hysterical, and a dish was broken.
I felt occasional twinges of remorse in the midst of all this folly. All this gaiety the day after a cruel[Pg 268] loss!... But what did it matter? Had I not mourned my brother as he would have liked to be mourned? This death already seemed such an old story.... And lastly I privately thought that I had acquired a sort of right to give proof of a versatile disposition ... violent and fleeting feelings, tears yesterday, and joy to-day.............