We had been three hours on our journey! Well--I sat in the garden watching the sun rise.

To my right were four dead men neatly laid out in a row under a tree.
Their faces had not been covered but their eyes were closed, their cheeks, hands, and feet like wax.

In front of them the young man who had sat on the stove in the kitchen all night and watched us at work was mowing the tall grass with a scythe.

He was going to dig graves.

He wore a white shirt and white trousers and had long black hair.
"Why didn't they take you for a soldier ?" I asked him.
"Consumptive," he said.
I had washed my face, hitched up my trousers.