He lay upon his back staring at the sky.

He was dressed in an awkward suit of yellowish brown.

The youth could see that the soles of his shoes had been worn to the thinness of writing paper, and from a great rent in one the dead foot projected piteously.

And it was as if fate had betrayed the soldier.

In death it exposed to his enemies that poverty which in life he had perhaps concealed from his friends.
The ranks opened covertly to avoid the corpse.