And they laugh
endlessly, for in the human mechanism laughter is the sound of
wheels that work, of deeds that are done.
One tries to fathom certain faces that show up in provocative relief
among this menagerie of shadows, this aviary of reflections. But one
cannot. They are visible, but you can see nothing in the depth of
them.
* * * * * *
"Ten o'clock already, friends," says Bertrand. "We'll finish the
camel's humps off to-morrow. Time for by-by." Each one then slowly
retires to rest, but the jabbering hardly pauses. Man takes all
things easily when he is under no obligation to hurry. The men go to
and fro, each with some object in his hand, and along the wall I
watch Eudore's huge shadow gliding, as he passes in front of a
candle with two little bags of camphor hanging from the end of his
fingers.
Lamuse is throwing himself about in search of a good position; he
seems ill at ease. To-day, obviously. and whatever his capacity may
be, he has eaten too much.
"Some of us want to sleep! Shut them up, you lot of louts!" cries
Mesnil Joseph from his litter.
This entreaty has a subduing effect for a moment, but does not stop
the burble of voices nor the passing to and fro.
"We're going up to-morrow, it's true," says Paradis, "and in the
evening we shall go into the first line. But nobody's thinking about
it. We know it, and that's all."
Gradually each has regained his place. I have stretched myself on
the straw, and Marthereau wraps himself up by my side.
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