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But if that slope had been free of Germans during the daytime as indeed it was, for the guns of the French lining the crests of Poivre Hill commanded it completely the darkness which had now fallen and hidden all objects had made a most decided difference.
Such was the case, though taken prisoner some time before all was over, with Gaspard Berthier, who now lay broken-down in the prison hospital at Norman Cross. Marc Poivre was a rough comforter to him. Their berths were near each other, and as Poivre was somewhat softened at first, he deigned to notice the poor young fellow. "That cough of yours, Gaspard," said he, "is very bad."
"Not worth anything," replied Poivre; "can't see it." "It's worth as much as yours." "That's not saying much." The atmosphere was thick with oaths, and as oaths and devils go together, the atmosphere must have been of a sulphureous nature, as it always is at such times, though we may not notice it. "Don't talk to me, poltron!" cried Malin.
"I fear it annoys you," replied the other. "I am very sorry, but I cannot help it. I wish I could, for my sake as well as others!" "I think you might stop it more than you do," said a gruff voice from a face of vinegar close by: "specially of nights." "Don't vex the poor lad," said Poivre; "he won't be here long; his time is very short."
But it was not the time for quarrelling: so Poivre restrained himself, and only said, "I will answer you another time. Begin to-morrow if you will. Have your own way. I am content." All the others agreed to this, for Poivre was not popular among them.
After leaving the citadel and the much-injured cathedral, beneath the crypt of which some of the labyrinthine passages of the old fortress are hewn, we drove through the eastern section of the battle-field, past what was once Fort Souville, along an upper road, with Vaux on our right, and Douaumont on the northern edge of the hill in front of us; descending again by Froide Terre, with the Côte de Poivre beyond it to the north; while we looked across the Meuse at the dim lines of Mort Homme, of the Bois des Corbeaux and the Crête de l'Oie, of all that "chess-board" of hills which became so familiar to Europe in those marvellous four months from February to June, 1916.
Then, in the place where for so many years the sighing of the prisoners had been heard, mingled, it might be, with the sound of revelry, in which the wretched tried to drown their misery, pealed forth the shouts of those who sang for very joy and gladness of heart. Poivre was still among them.
Women also were not thought unworthy of being honorary and assistant members of this humane institution; and among these were found the amiable Marchioness of la Fayette, Madame de Poivre, widow of the late intendant of the Isle of France, and Madame Necker, wife of the first minister of state.
Crawling over the flat plain which swept gently down to the River Meuse, on the far side of which lay the Goose Hill, Caurette Wood, Crow's Wood, the Mort Homme, and Hill 304 positions to win unending fame in this warfare in the neighbourhood of Verdun they gained at length the ground which ascended on their left towards the Poivre Hill, and beyond that again, giving access to the plateau of Douaumont, a plateau destined to see some of the most tremendous fighting in this conflict.
We have seen how, attempting to follow up their drive to the north, the French guns on Mort Homme and Hill 304 had outflanked the Germans, and had driven them from the Côte de Talou and the Côte du Poivre.
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