From the forest, from the snow, a fresh, strong breath of air was wafted.

The feet slipped, sometimes sinking into the snow, and involuntarily the hands of the comrades clung to each other.

And the convoys, breathing with difficulty, walked over the untouched snow on each side of the road.

Some one said in an angry voice: "Why didn't they clear the road?
Did they want us to turn somersaults in the snow ?" Some one else apologized guiltily.
"We cleaned it, your Honor.

But it is thawing and it can't be helped." Consciousness of what they were doing returned to the prisoners, but not completely,--in fragments, in strange parts.