With a jerk he turned on to his back, his arms slackened, and his gaze drowned in his eyes.

His blood began to spread around him, and we drew our great boots away, that we should not walk on that blood.
"He died like an idiot," said Margat in a choking voice; "but by God it's fine!" He took off his cap, saluted awkwardly and stood with bowed head.
"Committing suicide for an idea, it's fine," mumbled Vidaine.
"It's fine, it's fine!" other voices said.
And these little words fluttered down like leaves and petals onto the body of the great dead soldier.
"Where's his cap, that he thought so much of ?" groaned his orderly, Aubeau, looking in all directions.
"Up there, to be sure: I'll fetch it," said Termite.
The comical man went for the relic.

He mounted the parapet in his turn, coolly, but bending low.

We saw him ferreting about, frail as a poor monkey on the terrible crest.

At last he put his hand on the cap and jumped into the trench.