It struck him, not for the first time, that the campaign here was a more tolerable thing for the unmarried. Those who had wives at home only pined for them and fretted about their welfare. In his case there was the further concern that his wife might by some rash words imperil the family name; or indeed compromise her husband’s advancement. These were fears he must perforce keep to himself. And then knowing the comfort, the warmth and the tender pleasures of a married bed, as he did, made the cold nights especially hard to bear. He missed Alice, the weight of her arm around him as she slept, the quiet sounds as she turned in the night. She was a much more gentle presence beneath the counterpane than the animated face she showed upon the day would have indicated.

He was fortunate here at least in his tent-fellow, Derrington, who was an amiable fellow and hardly snored. Derrington had been one of a group from Gale’s other companies with whom he had found himself at Varna, last August. How distant that time now seemed! Men who had been there before his arrival had had a bad time of the cholera; a dreadful fire had ravaged through the town and much of the camp, taking supplies in its flames. Lord Raglan’s entire travelling library had been incinerated. But the little town itself, its green wooded coasts, the bay full of vessels: all had charmed him. In order to avoid the fever they had moved camp again and then again, the horses – some eighty-five in all belonging to their regiment – picketed in rows in the rear of the tents. One such encampment found them beside a lake, and after they had bathed in the mornings, the subalterns often amused themselves hunting the wild dogs that were about the place. Races were put on. When they were closer to Varna, those who knew how to swim rose at six and went out in little boats to bathe. The days at Varna had been spent most agreeably, getting up parties to go quail shooting in the hills on the sturdy local ponies, or rowing about the fleet. In the evenings there had been to-ing and fro-ing between camp and the yachts and steamers ranked in the bay, for dinners and easeful sitting with glasses of port afterwards, beneath the stars. After a great ball at the French Ambassador’s, all the talk was of Prince Napoleon, who had been seen there: it was said that he was dressed like his uncle and resembled him to a wonderful degree. A few fellows had sisters or cousins who had come out, so there was occasional pleasant company at table. The warm air hung heavy with the scent of Turkish tobacco and cigars.