That journey put Don Marcelo in touch with the extraordinary movement which the war had developed on the railroads.  His train took fourteen hours to cover the distance normally made in two.  It was made up of freight cars filled with provisions and cartridges, with the doors stamped and sealed.  A third-class car was occupied by the train escort, a detachment of provincial guards.  He was installed in a second-class compartment with the lieutenant in command of this guard and certain officials on their way to join their regiments after having completed the business of mobilization in the small towns in which they were stationed before the war.  The crowd, habituated to long detentions, was accustomed to getting out and settling down before the motionless locomotive, or scattering through the nearby fields.

In the stations of any importance all the tracks were occupied by rows of cars.  High-pressure engines were whistling, impatient to be off.  Groups of soldiers were hesitating before the different trains, making mistakes, getting out of one coach to enter others.  The employees, calm but weary-looking, were going from side to side, giving explanations about mountains of all sorts of freight and arranging them for transport.  In the convoy in which Desnoyers was placed the Territorials were sleeping, accustomed to the monotony of acting as guard.  Those in charge of the horses had opened the sliding doors, seating themselves on the floor with their legs hanging over the edge.  The train went very slowly during the night, across shadowy fields, stopping here and there before red lanterns and announcing its presence by prolonged whistling.

In some stations appeared young girls clad in white with cockades and pennants on their breasts.  Day and night they were there, in relays, so that no train should pass through without a visit.  They offered, in baskets and trays, their gifts to the soldiers—­bread, chocolate, fruit.  Many, already surfeited, tried to resist, but had to yield eventually before the pleading countenance of the maidens.  Even Desnoyers was laden down with these gifts of patriotic enthusiasm.

He passed a great part of the night talking with his travelling companions.  Only the officers had vague directions as to where they were to meet their regiments, for the operations of war were daily changing the situation.  Faithful to duty, they were passing on, hoping to arrive in time for the decisive combat.  The Chief of the Guard had been over the ground, and was the only one able to give any account of the retreat.  After each stop the train made less progress.  Everybody appeared confused.  Why the retreat? . . .  The army had undoubtedly suffered reverses, but it was still united and, in his opinion, ought to seek an engagement where it was.  The retreat was leaving the advance of the enemy unopposed.  To what point were they going to retreat? . . .  They who two weeks before were discussing in their garrisons the place in Belgium where their adversaries were going to receive their death blow and through what places their victorious troops would invade Germany! . . .