She looked like a young fairy-tale princess, with blue-stained lips and white eyelids. Her hair blended with the rusty grass stained by the morning chill, and her small hands clutched nothing but emptiness. It was so cold that day that everyone's mustaches were covered with snow as they breathed like bulls. People stamped their feet to get the blood flowing back into their toes. In the air, clumsy geese circled, as if lost. The sun hid behind its veil of mist, which was only slowly dissipating. There was no sound. Even the cannons seemed numbed by the cold. Perhaps peace has finally arrived... Grosspeil guessed. "Peace, my foot!" replied his colleague, pulling the damp coat over the girl's body.