I leave the famished ones at half-past ten, persuaded that they will take counsel with their pillow and that on the morrow things will have resumed their ordinary course.
I was wrong.

I was expecting too much of them when I accorded them that faint gleam of intelligence which the tribulations of a distressful stomach ought, one would think, to have aroused.

I visit them at dawn.
They are lined up as on the day before, but motionless.

When the air grows a little warmer, they shake off their torpor, revive and start walking again.

The circular procession begins anew, like that which I have already seen.