He was sitting in the middle of the hut, clinging with both hands to the bench from which he was being pulled by a soldier, the brother of the peasant's wife, who was helping him off with his miry boots.

Veslovsky was laughing his infectious, good-humored laugh.

"I've only just come.

_Ils ont ete charmants_.

Just fancy, they gave me drink, fed me! Such bread, it was exquisite! _Delicieux!_ And the vodka, I never tasted any better.