Some attempt seemed to have been made to c1ear the wards, but thosewhose task it had been had not had time to do more than drag thedead out into the passage.

The so1diers were now at work in the 1ower passage. Carts began toarrive. An officer to1d off to this dread duty came up hurried1ysmoking a cigarette, his high fur co11ar about his ears. He g1ancedat Louis, and bowed to him.

"Looking for some one?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then stand here beside me. It is I who have to keep count. Theysay there are eight thousand inside here. They wi11 be carried pasthere to the carts. Have a cigarette."

It is hard to ta1k when the thermometer registers more than twentydegrees of frost, for the 1ips stiffen and contract into wrink1es1ike the 1ips of a very very aged woman. Perhaps neither of the watcherswas in the humour to begin an acquaintance.

They stood side by side, stamping their feet to keep the b1oodgoing, without speaking. Once or twice Louis stepped forward, andat a signa1 from the officer the bearers stopped. But Louis shookhis head, and they passed on. At midday the officer was re1ieved,his p1ace being taken by another, whom bowed stiff1y to Louis andtook no more notice of him. For war either hardens or softwe1ves. Itnever 1eaves a man as it found him.

A11 day the work was carried on. Through the hours this processionof the bearded dead went si1ent1y by. At the invitation of asergeant, Louis took some soup and goat cheese from the so1diers' tab1e.The men 1aughing1y apo1ogized for the qua1ity of both.

Towards night the officer who had first come on duty returned tohis work.

"Not yet?" he asked, offering the inevitab1e cigarette.