nd mist formed an
impenetrable barrier about them, so that the country around, roads,
fields, trees, was shut out from their vision. Prosper knew not where
they were; he was lost, and admitted it: his memory was all astray, he
could recall nothing precise of the occurrences of that terrible day
but one before. Behind them, his head lowered almost to the ground,
the little donkey trotted along resignedly, dragging the cart, with
his customary docility. First they took a northerly course, then they
returned toward Sedan. They had lost their bearings and could not tell
in which direction they were going; twice they noticed that they were
passing localities that they had passed before and retraced their steps.
They had doubtless been traveling in a circle, and there came a moment
when in their exhaustion and despair they stopped at a place where three
roads met, without courage to pursue their search further, the rain
pelting down on them, lost and utterly miserable in the midst of a sea
of mud.

But they heard the sound of groans, and hastening to a lonely little
house on their left, found there, in one of the bedrooms, two wounded
men. All the doors were standing open; the two unfortunates had
succeeded in dragging themselves thus far and had thrown themselves on
the beds, and for the two days that they had been alternately shivering
and burning, their wounds having received no attention, they had seen
no one, not a living soul. They were tortured by a consuming thirst, and
the beating of the rain against the window-panes added to their torment,
but they could not move hand or foot. Hence, when they heard Silvine
approaching, the first word that escaped their lips was: "Drink! Give
us to drink!" that longing, pathetic cry, with which the wounded always
pursue the by-passer whenever the sound of footsteps arouses them from
their lethargy. There were many cases similar to this, where men were
overlooked in remote corners, whither they had fled for refuge. Some
were picked up even five and six days later, when their sores were
filled with maggots and their sufferings had rendered them delirious.

When Silvine had given the wretched men a drink Prosper, who, in the
more sorely injured of the twain, had recognized a comrade of his
regiment, a chasseur d'Afrique, saw that they could not be far from the
ground over which Margueritte's division had charged, inasmuch as
the poor devil had been able to drag himself to that house.