know. They have a hospital here. Very likely you will be better off than we others” said Pierre.“O Lord! it will be the death of me! O Lord!” the soldier groaned more loudly.“Well I will ask them again in a minute” said Pierre and getting up he went to the door of the shed,fake vans. While Pierre was going to the door the same corporal who had on the previous day offered Pierre a pipe came in from outside accompanied by two soldiers. Both the corporal and the soldiers were in marching order with knapsacks on and shakoes with straps buttoned that changed their familiar faces.The corporal had come to the door so as to shut it in accordance with the orders given him. Before getting them out he had to count over the prisoners,hello kitty vans.“Corporal what is to be done with the sick man?” Pierre was beginning but at the very moment that he spoke the words he doubted whether it were the corporal he knew or some stranger—the corporal was so unlike himself at that moment. Moreover at the moment Pierre was speaking the roll of drums was suddenly heard on both sides. The corporal scowled at Pierre's words and uttering a meaningless oath he slammed the door. It was half-dark now in the shed; the drums beat a sharp tattoo on both sides drowning the sick man's groans.“Here it is!…Here it is again!” Pierre said to himself and an involuntary shudder ran down his back. In the changed face of the corporal in the sound of his voice in the stimulating and deafening din of the drums Pierre recognised that mysterious unsympathetic force which drove men against their will to do their fellow-creatures to death; that force the effect of which he had seen at the execution. To be afraid to try and avoid that force to appeal with entreaties or with exhortations to the men who were serving as its instruments was useless. That Pierre knew now. One could but wait and be patient. Pierre did not go near the sick man again and did not look round at him,cheap vans. He stood at the door of the shed in silence scowling.When the doors of the shed were opened and the prisoners huddling against one another like a flock of sheep crowded in the entry Pierre pushed in front of them and went up to the very captain who was so the corporal had declared ready to do anything for him. The captain was in marching trim and from his face too there looked out the same “it” Pierre had recognised in the corporal's words and in the roll of the drums.“Filez filez!” the captain was saying frowning sternly and looking at the prisoners crowding by him.Pierre knew his effort would be in vain yet he went up to him.“Well what is it?” said the officer scanning him coldly as though he did not recognise him. Pierre spoke of the sick prisoner.“He can walk damn him!” said the captain.“Filez filez!” he went on without looking at Pierre.“Well no he is in agony…!” Pierre was beginning.“Voulez-vous bien?”…shouted the captain scowling malignantly.“Dram-da-da-dam dam-dam” rattled the drums and Pierre knew that the mysterious force had already complete possession of Related articles:

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