The commandant carefully scraped the mud from his boots with the end of his sword; he then mounted on the step of the wagon, drew forward over Laurette's head the hood of a little cloak she had on, took off his own black silk cravat, and put it round the neck of his adopted daughter; after which he gave a kick to his mule, and saying, "Get along, you lazy beast!" we continued our journey.
The rain was still falling gloomily; we found on the road only dead horses, abandoned, with their saddles. The gray sky and gray earth stretched out without end; a sort of dead light, a pale wet sun was sinking behind some large windmills, which did not turn, and we fell back into a long silence.
I looked at the old commandant; he walked on with long strides and untiring energy, whilst his mule could hardly keep along, and even my horse began to droop his head. The brave old fellow took off his shako from time to time, to wipe his bald forehead and the few gray hairs on his head, or his white moustache from which the rain was dripping. He did not think anything about the effect his recital might have produced on me; he had made himself out neither better nor worse than he was; he had not deigned to draw himself; he did not think of himself; and at the end of a quarter of an hour, he began on the same key a much longer story of a campaign
