The grass rose a foot high on either
side of him, but the sun, bright and hot, shone directly down upon his
face and body. It felt wonderfully good after that long submersion in
the Marne. Removing all his heavy wet clothing, he wrung the water out
of it as much as he could, and lay back in a state of nature, for both
himself and his clothing to dry. Meanwhile, in order to avoid cold, he
stretched and tensed his muscles for a quarter of an hour before he lay
still again.
A wonderful warmth and restfulness flowed back into his veins. He had
feared chills and a serious illness, but he knew now that they would not
come. Youth, wiry and seasoned by hard campaigning, would quickly
recover, but knowing that, for the present, he could neither go forward
nor backward, he luxuriated in the grass, while the sun sucked the damp
out of his clothing.
Meanwhile the battle was raging over his head and he scarcely noticed
it. The shells whistled and shrieked incessantly, but, midway between
the contending lines, he felt that they were no longer likely to drop
near. So he relaxed, and a dreamy feeling crept over him. He could hear
the murmur of insects in the grass, and he reflected that the smaller
one was, the safer one was. A shell was not likely to take any notice of
a gnat.
He felt of his clothing. It was not dry yet and he would wait a little
longer. Anyhow, what was the use of hurrying? He turned over on his
side and continued to luxuriate in the long grass.
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