The next morning Maurice was up and stirring with the sun.  The sky was cloudless; he was desirous to rejoin Jean and his other comrades of the company with the least possible delay.  For a moment he had an idea of going to see what there was in the interior of the peninsula, then resolved he would first complete its circuit.  And on reaching the canal his eyes were greeted with the sight of the 106th—­or rather what was left of it—­a thousand men, encamped along the river bank among some waste lands, with no protection save a row of slender poplars.  If he had only turned to the left the night before instead of pursuing a straight course he could have been with his regiment at once.  And he noticed that almost all the line regiments were collected along that part of the bank that extends from the Tour a Glaire to the Chateau of Villette—­another bourgeois country place, situated more in the direction of Donchery and surrounded by a few hovels—­all of them having selected their bivouac near the bridge, sole issue from their prison, as sheep will instinctively huddle together close to the door of their fold, knowing that sooner or later it will be opened for them.

Jean uttered a cry of pleasure.  “Ah, so it’s you, at last!  I had begun to think you were in the river.”

He was there with what remained of the squad, Pache and Lapoulle, Loubet and Chouteau.  The last named had slept under doorways in Sedan until the attention of the Prussian provost guard had finally restored them to their regiment.  The corporal, moreover, was the only surviving officer of the company, death having taken away Sergeant Sapin, Lieutenant Rochas and Captain Beaudoin, and although the victors had abolished distinction of rank among the prisoners, deciding that obedience was due to the German officers alone, the four men had, nevertheless, rallied to him, knowing him to be a leader of prudence and experience, upon whom they could rely in circumstances of difficulty.  Thus it was that peace and harmony reigned among them that morning, notwithstanding the stupidity of some and the evil designs of others.  In the first place, the night before he had found them a place to sleep in that was comparatively dry, where they had stretched themselves on the ground, the only thing they had left in the way of protection from the weather being the half of a shelter-tent.  After that he had managed to secure some wood and a kettle, in which Loubet made coffee for them, the comforting warmth of which had fortified their stomachs.  The rain had ceased, the day gave promise of being bright and warm, they had a small supply of biscuit and bacon left, and then, as Chouteau said, it was a comfort to have no orders to obey, to have their fill of loafing.  They were prisoners, it was true, but there was plenty of room to move about.  Moreover, they would be away from there in two or three days.  Under these circumstances the day, which was Sunday, the 4th, passed pleasantly enough.