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This document provides information about an inplant training program offered by KAASHIV INFOTECH in Chennai, India. It outlines 5-day training schedules for students of CSE/IT/MCA and ECE/EE/EIE focused on topics like Big Data, cloud computing, CCNA, ethical hacking, and MATLAB. It also lists a 5-day training schedule for mechanical/civil engineering students and provides contact information for the training program.
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35. canal, across which packets were continually flying. However, when
Maurice flung over a five-franc piece, wrapped in his necktie, the
Bavarian who sent him a loaf in exchange threw it in such a clumsy
or tricky fashion that it fell flop into the water, whereat the Germans
burst into a loud guffaw. Twice did Maurice repeat the experiment,
and twice the loaf sent back to him dived into the canal. On hearing
the roars of laughter which arose, some Bavarian officers ran up and
prohibited their men from selling anything to the prisoners under
penalty of severe punishment. The traffic then ceased, and Jean had
to exert himself to calm Maurice, who was shaking his fists at those
thieves yonder, shouting to them to throw him back his five-franc
pieces.
In spite of its bright sunshine the day proved a terrible one. There
were two alerts, two bugle calls, on hearing which Jean hastened to
the shed, where rations were said to be distributed. But on both
occasions, he only secured some digs in the ribs, during the
scramble. The Prussians, so remarkably well organised themselves,
continued displaying a brutal indifference with regard to the
vanquished army. Generals Douay and Lebrun having protested
against this inhuman treatment, they certainly sent a few sheep and
some cart-loads of bread to the peninsula, but there was such an
absence of method and precaution that the sheep were carried off
and the carts ransacked as soon as they had crossed the bridge, so
that the troops encamped more than a hundred yards away were no
better off than before. In fact, the prowlers and pillagers were about
the only ones who succeeded in filling their maws. Jean scented the
trick, and ended by leading Maurice towards the bridge, so that they
might wait and watch there for the arrival of provisions.
It was already four o'clock and they had as yet eaten nothing that
lovely, sunshiny day, when all at once they were delighted to catch
sight of Delaherche. A few of the townspeople of Sedan had, with
great difficulty, obtained permission to go and see the prisoners, to
whom they carried provisions; and Maurice had several times
already expressed surprise at receiving no news of his sister. As soon
as they espied Delaherche, carrying a large basket and with a loaf of
36. bread tucked under either arm, they sprang forward to meet him,
but once again they came up too late. Such was the rush, indeed,
that the basket and one of the loaves vanished without the
manufacturer himself being able to understand how they had been
torn away from him.
Eager as he was for popularity, he had crossed the bridge with a
smile on his lips and an air of affable good fellowship, but now he
was altogether upset and stupefied. 'Ah! my poor friends,' he
stammered.
Jean had already taken possession of the remaining loaf, and
vigorously defended it; and whilst he and Maurice were devouring
the bread by the roadside, Delaherche told them the news. His wife,
thank Heaven! was very well; but he was anxious about the colonel,
who had become extremely depressed, although Madame
Delaherche, senior, continued keeping him company from morn till
night.
'And my sister?' asked Maurice.
'Your sister, ah yes! She came with me, it was she who brought the
two loaves. Only she had to stay yonder, on the other side of the
canal. Beg as we might, the sentries would not let her pass. The
Prussians, you know, have given strict orders that women are not to
be allowed on the peninsula.'
Then he went on talking of Henriette and of her futile endeavours to
see her brother and assist him. One day, in the streets of Sedan,
chance had brought her face to face with cousin Gunther, the
captain in the Prussian Guards. He was passing along with that stern
forbidding air of his, pretending not to recognise her, and she
herself, feeling her heart rise as though she were in presence of one
of her husband's murderers, had at the first moment hastened her
steps. Then in a sudden veering which she could not account for, she
had turned back after him, and in a harsh, reproachful voice, had
told him everything, especially how her husband had been shot at
Bazeilles. And on thus hearing of his relative's frightful death, he had
37. made but an ambiguous gesture; it was the fortune of war, he also
might have been killed. His soldier's face barely twitched as he learnt
the news. Then, when she spoke to him of her brother who was a
prisoner, begging that he would intervene so that she might obtain
permission to see him, he refused to do so. Such intervention was
not allowed, he said; the orders were strict; and he spoke of his
superior's orders as though they were Divine commandments. On
leaving him, Henriette clearly realised that he deemed himself a
justiciar, and was swayed by all the intolerance and arrogance of an
hereditary enemy, who had grown up hating the race which he was
now chastising.
'Well,' concluded Delaherche, 'at all events you will have had some
little to eat this evening. What worries me is that I fear I sha'n't be
able to get another permit to come here.'
He then asked them if they had any commissions, and obligingly
took charge of some letters, written in pencil, which other soldiers
confided to him, for the Bavarians had been seen laughing and
lighting their pipes with the missives which they had promised to
forward. Then, whilst Maurice and Jean were accompanying him
back to the bridge, he suddenly exclaimed: 'Look! there's Henriette
yonder. Can't you see her waving her handkerchief?'
Indeed, among the throng behind the line of sentinels, a thin little
face could be espied, a white speck, as it were, palpitating in the
sunlight. Greatly affected, with their eyes moist, both soldiers
immediately raised their arms and answered with an energetic wave
of the hand.
The morrow, a Friday, proved the most fearful day that Maurice had
spent on the peninsula. True enough, after passing another quiet
night in the little wood, he had been lucky enough to get some
bread to eat; Jean having discovered an old woman at the château
of Villette who had some for sale, at the moderate price of ten francs
the pound. Later on that day, however, they both witnessed a
frightful scene, the nightmare-like memory of which long haunted
them.
38. Chouteau had noticed the previous evening that Pache no longer
complained, but was going about with a lightsome, contented air,
like a man who has eaten his fill. The idea at once occurred to him
that the slyboots must have a hidden store somewhere; and he was
confirmed in this impression in the morning when he saw Pache go
off for nearly an hour, and come back smiling slyly, with his mouth
still full. Some windfall must certainly have come to him; he had
probably got hold of some provisions or other in one of the
scrambles. Thereupon Chouteau set himself the task of stirring up
Loubet and Lapoulle, especially the latter. 'Ah!' said he, 'what a dirty
cur that fellow Pache must be, to have some grub and not to share it
with his comrades. I'll tell you what, we'll follow him this evening.
We'll just see if he'll dare to gorge himself all alone, when other poor
devils are kicking the bucket all round him.'
'Yes, yes, we'll follow him!' Lapoulle angrily repeated. 'We'll just see
what it means.'
So saying, the colossus clenched his fists, maddened by the idea of
getting something to eat. He experienced even greater suffering
than the others, on account of his terrible appetite; indeed, his
torment became at times so intense that he had even tried to chew
the grass. He had secured nothing else to eat since two days
previously, since the night, in fact, when the horseflesh and beetroot
had given him such a frightful attack of dysentery. Despite his great
strength, he was so clumsy with his big limbs that he had not been
able to secure anything when the provision carts were pillaged. He
would now have given his blood for a pound of bread.
When night was falling Pache glided away among the trees of Glaire
Tower, and the three others cautiously crept after him. 'We mustn't
rouse his suspicions,' repeated Chouteau. 'Be careful, he might look
back.'
However, after going another hundred yards or so, Pache evidently
fancied himself alone, for he began walking rapidly without casting a
glance behind. They were thus easily able to follow him to the
neighbouring quarries, and came up behind him just as he was
39. moving two large stones to take a half loaf of bread from under
them. This was all that remained of his hoard, just enough to make
one more meal.
'You dirty black-beetle!' shouted Lapoulle. 'So that's why you hide
yourself, is it? You'll just give me that. It's my share.'
Give his bread, indeed! Why should he give it? However puny he
might be, his anger made him draw himself erect, pressing the
bread to his heart with all the strength he possessed. He, also, was
hungry. 'Mind your own business!' he answered, 'it's mine!'
Then, at sight of Lapoulle's raised fist, he darted away, galloping
down from the quarries towards the bare fields in the direction of
Donchery. The three others pursued him, panting, as fast as their
legs could carry them. He gained ground, however, being lighter
than they were, so frightened too, and so bent on not losing his
bread, that it seemed as though the wind were carrying him away.
He had already gone more than a thousand yards, and was nearing
the little wood on the river bank, when he overtook Jean and
Maurice, who were returning to their night quarters there. As he
rushed by he raised a cry of distress, whilst they, astounded at sight
of this man-hunt so wildly galloping past them, stopped short at the
edge of a field, where they remained watching. And thus it was that
they saw everything.
Stumbling against a stone, Pache unhappily fell to the ground. The
three others were already coming up, swearing and howling,
maddened by their run, like wolves overtaking their prey.
'Give it me, thunder!' shouted Lapoulle, 'or I'll settle your hash!' And
he was again raising his fist when Chouteau, after opening the little
knife that had served to slaughter the horse, passed it to him,
exclaiming: 'Here! take the knife.'
Meantime, however, Jean had darted forward to prevent an affray.
He also was losing his head, and talked of sending them all to the
guard-room; whereat Loubet, with an evil grin, told him he must be
40. a Prussian, for there were no officers left, so to say, the Prussians
alone now exercising authority.
'D——!' repeated Lapoulle, 'will you give me that bread?'
Despite the terror that blanched his face, Pache hugged the bread
yet more closely to his chest, with the obstinacy of a famished
peasant, who will never part with anything belonging to him.
'No!'
Then in a trice it was all over; the brute planted the knife in his
throat with such violence that he did not even raise a cry. His arms
relaxed, and the hunk of bread rolled to the ground, into the blood
that had spurted from the wound.
At sight of this mad, imbecile murder, Maurice, hitherto motionless,
seemed all at once to lose his reason. Shaking his fists at the three
men, he called them assassins with such vehemence that his frame
shook from head to foot. Lapoulle, however, did not even seem to
hear him. Still crouching on the ground near the corpse, he was
devouring the blood-splashed bread with an air of fierce stupor, as
though stunned by the loud noise of his own jaws; and he appeared
so terrible whilst he thus satisfied his craving appetite, that
Chouteau and Loubet did not even dare to ask him for their share.
Night had now completely gathered in, a clear night with a beautiful
starry sky; and Maurice and Jean, who had betaken themselves to
the little wood, were soon only able to see Lapoulle, who went
wandering up and down the river-bank. Chouteau and Loubet had
disappeared, they had no doubt gone back to the canal-bank,
uneasy with regard to that corpse which they were leaving behind
them. Lapoulle, on the contrary, seemed afraid to go and join his
comrades. Oppressed by the weight of that big chunk of bread
which he had swallowed too fast, he was now, too, after the
dizziness of the murder-moment, seized with an anguish which
made motion a necessity; and not daring to turn back along the
road, across which the corpse was lying, he tramped incessantly
along the steep river-bank, with a wavering, irresolute step. Was
41. remorse already dawning in the depths of that dark soul? Or was it
not simply the fear of discovery? He paced up and down like a wild
beast before the bars of its cage, with a sudden, growing longing to
flee, a longing which was painful like a physical ailment, and which
he felt would cause his death if he did not satisfy it. Quick, quick, he
must at once get out of that prison where he had killed. And yet,
despite that eager desire, he all at once sank down, and for a long
time remained wallowing among the rushes on the bank.
Meantime Maurice, in his horror and disgust, was saying to Jean:
'Listen, I can't stay here a moment longer. It will drive me mad, I
assure you—I'm astonished that my body has held out—my health is
not so bad—but I'm losing my head, I'm losing it sure enough—I
shall be lost if you leave me another day in this hell. Let's get off, I
beg of you, let's get off.' And thereupon he began unfolding various
extravagant plans of escape which he had formed. They would swim
across the Meuse, spring upon the sentinels, and strangle them with
a bit of rope which he had in his pocket; or else they would stone
them to death; or else bribe them and put on their uniforms so as to
make their way through the Prussian lines.
'Be quiet, youngster,' repeated Jean, despairingly. 'It frightens me to
hear you say such foolish things. Is there any sense in it all, is it
possible to get away as you think? Wait till to-morrow, we'll see what
happens. And now don't talk about it any more.'
For his own part, although his heart was overflowing with anger and
disgust, although he was greatly weakened by privation, he still
retained his common sense amid all that nightmare-kind of life which
verged on the profoundest depths of human misery. And as his
comrade became more and more desperate and wished to fling
himself into the Meuse, he had to hold him back and even do him
violence, alternately scolding and supplicating, with tears standing in
his eyes. 'There! look!' he exclaimed all at once.
The water had just splashed, and they saw that Lapoulle had made
up his mind to slip into the river after doffing his capote, for fear lest
it might impede his movements. His shirt could be plainly descried,
42. forming a whitish spot on the bosom of the black, flowing water. He
was swimming slowly upstream, doubtless on the look-out for some
spot where he might land. Meantime, on the opposite bank, the slim
silhouettes of the motionless sentinels could be plainly distinguished.
Then, all at once, a flash rent the night asunder, and a report
crackled, re-echoing as far as the rocks of Montimont. The river
merely bubbled as though struck downward by a pair of oars, and
that was all; forsaken and inert, Lapoulle's body, the white speck on
the dark water, began floating away, carried along by the current.
At daybreak on the morrow, which was Saturday, Jean again brought
Maurice back to the camping-ground of the 106th in the hope that
they might be leaving the peninsula that day. But there were no
orders; it seemed as though the regiment had been forgotten. Many
had now taken their departure, the camp was emptying, and those
who were still left in it sank more and more deeply into the blues.
For eight long days insanity had been germinating and spreading in
that hell. The rain, no doubt, had given over, but the oppressive,
burning sunlight had only wrought a change of torture. The
excessive heat put the finishing touch to the men's exhaustion, and
imparted an alarming epidemical character to the attacks of
dysentery. What with nausea and diarrhœa, this army of sick men
quite poisoned the atmosphere in which it lived. It was no longer
possible to skirt the banks either of the Meuse or the canal, so foul
had become the stench of the drowned horses and soldiers rotting
among the herbage. Moreover, the horses which had died of
starvation lay putrefying in the fields, exhaling such a pestilence that
the Prussians began to fear for themselves, and bringing picks and
shovels, compelled the prisoners to bury the bodies.
That Saturday, by the way, the famine ceased. As their numbers
were now greatly reduced, and provisions were coming in from all
sides, the captives passed, all at once, from extreme destitution to
the most abundant plenty. There was no lack of bread or meat, or
even wine, and they ate from dawn till sunset, to the point of killing
themselves. Night fell and some were still eating, and even went on
43. eating till the following morning. And naturally enough many of them
gave up the ghost.
Throughout the day Jean's one preoccupation was to keep a watch
on Maurice, for he realised that the young fellow was now ripe for
any extravagant action. Heated by wine he had even talked of
cuffing a German officer in order that he might be sent away.
Accordingly, in the evening, having discovered a vacant corner in the
cellar of one of the outbuildings of Glaire Tower, Jean thought it
prudent to go and sleep there with his companion, in the hope that
the latter would be calmed by a good night's rest. But it proved the
most fearful night of their whole sojourn in the camp, a perfect night
of horrors, during which they were not once able to close their eyes.
Other soldiers helped to fill the cellar, and among them were two
men lying side by side in the same corner, and dying of dysentery.
As soon as the darkness had come, these two did not cease
complaining, with hollow groans, inarticulate cries, followed at last
by a death-rattle which became louder and louder, sounding so awful
in the pitchy darkness that the other men who were lying there,
longing to sleep, became quite enraged, and called to the dying
soldiers to hold their peace. But the latter did not hear, and the rattle
went on, ceasing for a moment perhaps every now and then, but
suddenly breaking forth anew, and then drowning every other
sound; whilst, in the intervals, the drunken clamour of the comrades
who were still eating, unable to satisfy themselves, was wafted from
without.
Then Maurice's agony began. He had tried to flee from that plaint of
atrocious pain, which brought the sweat of anguish to his brow; but
whilst he was rising and fumbling he stumbled over some
outstretched limbs and fell to the ground again, walled up, as it
were, with those dying men. And he made no further attempt to
escape. A vision of the whole frightful disaster was rising up before
him, from the time of their departure from Rheims to the crushing
blow of Sedan. It seemed to him also as though the passion of the
Army of Châlons were only that night coming to an end, amid the
inky blackness of that cellar, resounding with the death-rattle of
44. those two soldiers who prevented their comrades from sleeping. The
army of despair, the expiatory flock, offered up as a holocaust, had,
at each of its Stations,[39] paid for the faults of all with the red flood
of its blood. And, now, ingloriously slaughtered and beslavered, it
was sinking to martyrdom beneath a more brutal chastisement than
it had deserved. 'Twas too much, Maurice was boiling over with
anger, hungering for justice, burning to avenge himself on Destiny.
When the morning twilight appeared one of the two soldiers was
dead, but the other's throat was still rattling.
'Come on, youngster,' said Jean, gently; 'we'll go and get some fresh
air, that will be best.'
Strolling along in the pure morning air, which was already warm,
they skirted the steep river-bank till they again found themselves
near the village of Iges. And then Maurice suddenly became more
excited than ever, shaking his fist at the far-spreading, sunlit horizon
of the battlefield, which was spread out before him, the plateau of
Illy just opposite, St. Menges on his left, and the wood of La
Garenne on his right hand.
'No, no!' he cried. 'I cannot—I cannot bear the sight of all that any
longer! It pierces my heart and drives me mad! Take me away, take
me away at once!'
That day was again a Sunday; the pealing of church bells was
wafted from Sedan, and a German regimental band could already be
heard playing in the distance. However, there were still no orders for
the 106th, and, frightened by Maurice's growing delirium, Jean made
up his mind to try a plan which he had been nursing since the
previous day. On the road, in front of the German guard-house,
preparations were being made for the departure of another
regiment, the 5th of the Line. Great confusion prevailed in the
column, which an officer, who spoke very indifferent French, could
not succeed in counting. And thereupon Jean and Maurice, having
torn off both the collars and buttons of their uniforms, in order that
the number of their regiment might not betray them, slipped into the
45. midst of the throng, crossed the bridge, and thus at last found
themselves on the road. The same idea must have occurred to
Chouteau and Loubet, whom they espied behind them, glancing
nervously on either side, like the murderers they were.
Ah! how great was the relief of those first happy moments! Now that
they were outside their prison, it seemed like a resurrection, a return
to living light and boundless air, the flowery awakening of every
hope. And whatever might be their misfortunes now, they feared
them not, they could afford to laugh at them, for had they not
emerged unscathed from the frightful nightmare of the Camp of
Misery?
CHAPTER III
THE SLAVE-DRIVERS—A BID FOR FREEDOM
That morning, for the last time, had Jean and Maurice heard the gay
calls of the French bugles, and now they were marching along the
road to Germany among the drove of prisoners, which was preceded
and followed by platoons of Prussian soldiers, others of whom, with
fixed bayonets, kept a watch upon the captives on either hand. And
now they only heard the shrill, dismal notes of the German trumpets
at each guard-post that they passed.
Maurice was delighted to find that the column turned to the left, so
that it would evidently pass through Sedan. Perhaps he would be
lucky enough to catch a glimpse of his sister there. However, the
three-mile march from the peninsula of Iges to the town, sufficed to
damp the joy he felt at having emerged from that cesspool where he
had been agonising for nine long days. This pitiable convoy of
prisoners, of disarmed soldiers with hanging arms, led away like so
many sheep, at a hasty, timorous scamper, was but a fresh form of
torture. Clad in rags, soiled with the filth in which they had been
46. abandoned, emaciated by more than a week's privation, they now
looked like so many vagabonds, suspicious tramps picked up along
the roads by some scouring party of gendarmes. By the time they
had reached the suburb of Torcy, where men paused on the side-
walks and women came to their doors to gaze at them with an
expression of gloomy compassion, Maurice already felt stifling, and
bowed his head, his mouth twitching with the bitterness of his
sensations.
Jean, however, endowed with a practical mind and a tougher skin,
thought only of their foolishness in neglecting to bring a couple of
loaves of bread away with them. In the wild haste of their departure
they had come away, indeed, with their stomachs empty, and hunger
was once again weakening their legs. Other captives must have
been similarly situated, for many of them held out money, begging
the people of Torcy to sell them something. One very tall fellow, who
looked extremely ill, waved a bit of gold, with his long arm raised
over the heads of the soldiers of the escort, and was in despair that
he could find nothing to buy. Just then Jean, who was watching,
espied a dozen loaves in a pile, outside a baker's shop, some little
distance ahead. Before any of the others he threw down a five-franc
piece, intending to take a couple of the loaves. Then, as one of the
Prussian soldiers brutally pushed him back, he obstinately made an
effort to regain his money. But the captain in charge of the column,
a bald-headed little man with a brutal face, was already rushing up.
Raising his revolver with the butt downward over Jean's head, he
declared with an oath that he would split the skull of the first man
who dared to stir. And thereupon they all bent their backs and
lowered their eyes, continuing their march with a subdued tramp,
the quailing submissiveness of a flock of sheep.
'Oh! how I should like to slap him,' muttered Maurice savagely, 'box
his ears, and smash his teeth with a back-hander.'
From that moment he could not bear to look at that captain, whose
scornful face he so desired to smack. They were now entering
Sedan, crossing the bridge over the Meuse, and not a moment
47. passed without some fresh scene of brutality. A woman, a mother
doubtless, was desirous of embracing a young sergeant, but was
pushed back so violently with the butt of a gun, that she fell to the
ground. On the Place Turenne some well-to-do townsfolk were
belaboured because they compassionately threw provisions to the
prisoners. In the High Street one of the captives, having slipped
down in trying to take a bottle of wine offered to him by a lady, was
kicked to his feet again. And although, during the last eight days,
Sedan had frequently seen the miserable herds of the defeat driven
through its streets in this same brutal fashion, it could not accustom
itself to the spectacle, but at each fresh défilé was stirred by a fever
of compassion and resentment.
Jean, who by this time had grown calm again, was, like Maurice,
thinking of Henriette; and, all at once, too, the idea that they might
see Delaherche occurred to him. He nudged his comrade and
remarked: 'Keep your eyes open by-and-by if we pass down the
street.'
And, indeed, as soon as they entered the Rue Maqua, they caught
sight of several heads peering forth from one of the monumental
windows of the factory, and as they drew nearer, they recognised
Delaherche and his wife Gilberte, with their elbows resting on the
window bar, whilst behind them stood Madame Delaherche senior,
erect, with a stern expression on her face. They all three had some
loaves with them, and these Delaherche flung to the famished
captives who were holding up trembling, imploring hands.
Maurice immediately noticed that his sister was not one of the party;
whilst Jean, on seeing so many loaves rain down, became all anxiety,
fearing that none would remain for them. He waved his arm
frantically and called: 'For us! For us!'
The Delaherches evinced an almost joyous surprise. Their faces, pale
with pity, immediately brightened, and gestures expressive of their
pleasure at the meeting escaped them. Gilberte herself wished to
throw the last loaf into Jean's arms, and did so in such a charmingly
48. awkward way that she could not restrain a pretty laugh at her own
expense.
Unable to halt, Maurice turned his head, and with the greatest
rapidity called in an anxious, questioning tone: 'And Henriette?
Henriette?'
Delaherche answered in a long phrase which was drowned by the
tramping of the men. He must have realised that the young fellow
had not heard him, for immediately afterwards he began making a
variety of signs, pointing especially towards the South. However, the
column was already entering the Rue du Ménil, and the factory
façade was lost to sight, together with the three heads protruding
from the window, and a hand which was waving a handkerchief.
'What did he say to you?' asked Jean.
Maurice, sorely worried, was still vainly looking behind him. 'I don't
know, I didn't understand—I shall be anxious now, as long as I don't
get some news.'
And meantime the tramping continued, the Prussians hastened the
march with the brutality of conquerors, and the wretched flock,
stretched into a narrow file, passed out of Sedan by the Ménil Gate,
scampering along like sheep in fear of the dogs.
As they passed through Bazeilles, Jean and Maurice bethought
themselves of Weiss, and looked for the ashes of the little house
which had been so valiantly defended. During their sojourn at the
Camp of Misery some comrades had told them of the devastation of
the village, the fires and the massacres, but the sight they beheld
surpassed all the abomination they had pictured. Although twelve
days had now elapsed since the disaster, the piles of ruins were still
smoking. Many damaged walls had fallen in, and in all this village of
two thousand souls there were now not ten houses standing. The
captive soldiers were consoled somewhat, however, on meeting
numerous barrows and carts full of Bavarian helmets and rifles,
which had been picked up since the struggle. This proof that a large
49. number of these cut-throats and incendiaries had been slain, in
some measure relieved the prisoners' feelings.
They were to halt at Douzy, nominally for the purpose of
breakfasting, and did not get there without having suffered.
Exhausted, indeed, by their long fast, the captives were speedily
fatigued. Those who had gorged themselves with food on the
previous day, became giddy and heavy, and felt their legs sink
beneath them; their gluttony, far from restoring their lost strength,
had, in fact, only weakened them the more. And so, when the
column halted in a meadow on the left of the village of Douzy, the
unfortunate fellows flung themselves on the grass, lacking even the
energy to eat. There was no wine, and some charitable women who
endeavoured to approach, bringing a few bottles, were driven away
by the sentries. One of them, badly frightened, fell and sprained her
ankle, and then there were cries and tears, quite a revolting scene,
whilst the Prussians, who had confiscated the bottles of wine,
proceeded to drink their contents. This tender compassion of the
peasants for the poor soldiers who were being led away into
captivity, was constantly manifested along the route; but on the
other hand they were said to display great harshness towards the
general officers. A few days previously the inhabitants of that very
village of Douzy had hissed a convoy of generals who were
proceeding on parole to Pont-à-Mousson. The roads were not safe
for officers; men in blouses, soldiers who had escaped the foe, or
who had possibly deserted before the fight, sprang upon them with
pitchforks to massacre them, shouting that they were cowards and
had sold themselves; thus helping to ingraft that legend of treachery
which twenty years later still caused the folks of these districts to
speak with execration of all who were in command during that
disastrous campaign.
Seated on the grass, Maurice and Jean ate half of their loaf, and
were luckily able to wash it down with a drop of brandy, with which
a worthy farmer managed to fill a flask they had. Then the starting
off again proved a terrible business. They were to sleep at Mouzon,
but although the march was a short one, the effort they must needs
50. make appeared more than they could accomplish. They were unable
to rise without groaning, to such a point were their weary limbs
stiffened by the slightest rest. Several men whose feet were bleeding
took off their boots to be able to resume the march. Dysentery was
still wreaking havoc among them; they had gone but a thousand
yards or so when a first man fell and was pushed against the
wayside bank. Farther on two others sank down beside a hedge, and
it was night before an old woman came along and succoured them.
Those who kept up were tottering, leaning on sticks which the
Prussians, possibly in a spirit of derision, had allowed them to cut on
the verge of a little wood. They had become a mere band of beggars
covered with sores, emaciated, and scarce able to breathe. Yet their
custodians continued treating them with great brutality; those who
stepped aside even to satisfy a want of nature were whacked into
the ranks again. The escort-platoon in the rear had orders to drive
on the laggards at the bayonet's point. A sergeant having refused to
go any farther, the captain commanded two of his men to catch hold
of him under the arms, and drag him along till he consented to walk
afresh. Especially were the captives tortured by that bald-headed
little officer, whose face they longed to slap, and who abused his
knowledge of French to insult them in their own language, in curt
galling phrases, as cutting as the lashes of a whip.
'Oh! how I should like to hold him,' Maurice passionately repeated,
'hold him, and drain him of all his blood, drop by drop.'
The young fellow could no longer endure it all; he suffered, however,
far more from the anger he was compelled to restrain than from
physical exhaustion. Everything exasperated him, even those jarring
calls of the Prussian trumpets at which, in his enervated condition,
he could have howled like a dog. He felt that he should be unable to
accomplish this cruel journey without getting his skull cracked. Even
now in passing through the smallest hamlets he experienced intense
suffering at sight of the women who looked at him with so deep an
expression of pity. What would it be then when they got to Germany,
and the townsfolk scrambled to see them, and greeted them, as
they greeted the other prisoners, with insulting laughter? He
51. pictured the cattle-trucks in which they would be heaped together,
the nauseating abominations and tortures of the road, the dreary life
in the fortresses under the snow-laden sky of winter. No, no! rather
death at once, rather the risk of leaving his skin at the turn of a road
on the soil of France than rot over yonder, in some black casemate,
possibly for long months.
'Listen,' said he, in a low voice to Jean, who was walking beside him,
'we'll wait till we pass a wood, and then we'll jump aside and slip
between the trees. The Belgian frontier isn't far, we shall surely find
some one or other to guide us.'
Jean shuddered; despite the feeling of revolt which was making him
also dream of escape, he yet retained his calmer, more practical
mind. 'You are mad,' he said. 'They would fire on us, and we should
both be shot.'
But there was a chance that they might not be hit, retorted Maurice;
besides, even supposing they were shot down, well, so much the
better.
'But supposing we escaped,' continued Jean, 'what would become of
us in our uniforms? You can see very well that the country is covered
with Prussian pickets. It would, at any rate, be necessary to have
some other clothes. Yes, it's too dangerous, youngster. I can't let
you do anything so foolish.'
It became necessary that he should restrain the young fellow, and
whilst he strove to calm him with chiding but affectionate words, he
caught hold of his arm and pressed it closely to his side, so that they
appeared to be mutually supporting one another. They had taken but
a few steps, however, when some words exchanged in an undertone
behind them made them turn their heads. The whisperers were
Chouteau and Loubet, who had started from the peninsula that
morning at the same time as themselves, and whom they had
hitherto avoided. The two rascals were now at their heels, however,
and Chouteau must have heard what Maurice had said of trying to
escape through a plantation, for he adopted the idea on his own
52. account. 'I say,' he muttered, craning his head forward so that they
felt his breath on their necks, 'we'll join you. That idea of sloping's a
capital one. Some of the comrades have already gone off, and we
certainly can't let ourselves be dragged like so many dogs to the
country where these pigs live. Is it agreed, eh? Shall we four fellows
take a breath of fresh air?'
Maurice was again growing feverish, and Jean turned round to say
to the tempter: 'Well, if you're in a hurry, you can go on in front.
What do you hope for?'
Under the corporal's searching gaze, Chouteau became disconcerted,
and imprudently let the cat out of the bag. 'Well! it would be easier
if there were four of us,' said he. 'One or two would always manage
to get off.'
Thereupon, with an energetic shake of the head, Jean altogether
declined taking part in the venture. He mistrusted Monsieur
Chouteau, said he, and feared some act of treachery. However, he
had to exert all his authority over Maurice to prevent the young
fellow from yielding to his desire, for just then an opportunity
presented itself; they were passing a very leafy little wood, which
was merely separated from the road by a field thickly dotted with
bushes. To gallop across that field and disappear in the thickets,
would not that mean safety and freedom?
Loubet had so far said nothing. Firmly resolved, however, not to go
and moulder in Germany, he was sniffing the air with his restless
nose, and watching for the favourable moment with those sharp
eyes of his, like the crafty fellow he was. Doubtless he relied on his
legs and his artfulness, which had so far always helped him out of
his scrapes. And all at once he made up his mind. 'Ah! dash it! I've
had enough. I'm off.'
At one bound he had sprung into the neighbouring field, and
Chouteau, following his example, galloped off beside him. Two men
of the escort at once started in pursuit, without either of them
thinking of stopping the runaways with a bullet. It was all over so
53. quickly that at the first moment one could hardly understand what
had happened. However, it seemed as though Loubet, who had
taken a zigzag course through the bushes, would certainly escape,
whereas Chouteau, who was less nimble, already appeared on the
point of being recaptured. But with a supreme effort he all at once
gained ground, and, on overtaking his comrade, contrived to trip him
up. And then, whilst the two Prussians were springing upon the
prostrate man to hold him down, the other bounded into the wood
and disappeared. A few shots were fired after him, the escort
suddenly remembering its needle-guns, and a battue was even
attempted among the trees, but with no result.
Meanwhile the two German soldiers were belabouring the prostrate
Loubet. The captain had rushed to the spot, quite beside himself,
and shouted that an example must be made; at which
encouragement the men continued raining such savage kicks and
blows with the butts of their guns upon the recaptured prisoner,
that, on being raised from the ground, he was found to have his
skull split and an arm broken. Before they reached Mouzon he
expired in the little cart of a peasant, who had been willing to take
him up.
'There, you see,' Jean contented himself with muttering in Maurice's
ear.
They both darted towards the impenetrable wood a glance which
expressed all their hatred of the bandit who was now galloping off in
liberty; and they ended by feeling full of pity for the poor devil, his
victim; a lickerish tooth, no doubt, not of much value certainly, but
all the same good company, full of expedients, and by no means a
fool. Yet his fate had shown that no matter how artful a man might
be, he inevitably found his master and came to grief at last.
In spite of this terrible lesson, however, Maurice, on reaching
Mouzon, was still haunted by that fixed idea of escaping. They were
all so frightfully weary on their arrival that the Prussians had to help
them pitch the few tents which were placed at their disposal. The
camp was formed near the town, on some low, marshy ground, and
54. the worst was that another column having occupied the same spot
on the previous day, it was covered with filth, to protect themselves
from which the men had to spread out a number of large flat stones,
which they luckily found in a heap, near by. The evening proved less
trying, as the watchfulness of the Prussians relaxed somewhat when
their captain had gone off to take up his quarters at an inn. The
sentries began by letting some children throw apples and pears to
the prisoners, and at last even allowed the inhabitants of the
neighbourhood to enter the camp, so that there was soon quite a
little crowd of improvised hawkers there, men and women, selling
bread, wine, and even cigars. All those who had any money ate,
drank, and smoked, and in the pale twilight the scene was like some
corner of a village market, full of noisy animation.
Maurice, however, seated behind one of the tents, was growing
more and more excited, again and again saying to Jean: 'I cannot
stand it any longer. I shall bolt as soon as it is dark. To-morrow we
shall be going farther and farther away from the frontier, and it will
then be too late.'
'All right, we'll try it then,' at last replied Jean, unable to resist the
young fellow's entreaties any longer, and giving way, on his own
side, to this same haunting idea of escape. 'We shall soon see if we
leave our skins behind us.'
From that moment, however, he began scanning all the vendors
around him. Some comrades had procured blouses and pants, and it
was rumoured that some charitable folks of Mouzon had got
together large stocks of clothes in view of facilitating the escape of
the captives. Jean's attention was almost immediately attracted by a
pretty girl, a tall stag-eyed blonde of some sixteen summers, who
had on her arm a basket, in which three loaves of bread were to be
seen. She did not call out what she had for sale like the others did,
but stepped along in a hesitating way, with a smile which, although
engaging, was somewhat tinged with anxiety. Jean gazed steadily in
her face, and at last their eyes met, and for a moment commingled.
55. Then the pretty girl came forward, still smiling in her embarrassed
way: 'Do you want some bread?' she asked.
Jean did not answer, but questioned her with a wink. And as she
nodded her head in an affirmative way, he popped the question in a
very low voice: 'There are some clothes?'
'Yes, under the loaves,' she answered, thereupon making up her
mind to call out: 'Bread! bread! Who'll buy bread?'
When Maurice, however, wished to slip twenty francs into her hand,
she hastily withdrew it, and ran off, leaving them the basket. Still,
before she disappeared, they saw her turn round and dart on them
the tender, sympathetic laugh of her lovely eyes.
Although they had the basket they were still as perplexed as ever.
They had strayed from their tent, and were so bewildered that they
could not find it again. Where should they stow themselves away?
How could they change their clothes? It seemed to them that
everyone was prying into that basket, which Jean was carrying in
such an awkward manner, and could plainly detect what it
contained. At last, however, they made up their minds, and entered
the first empty tent they came upon, where in desperate haste each
of them divested himself of his regimentals and slipped on a pair of
trousers and a blouse. They placed their uniforms under the loaves
in the basket and left the latter in the tent. However, they had only
found one cap among the garments provided, and this Jean had
compelled Maurice to put on. For his own part, he was bareheaded,
and, exaggerating the danger, he fancied himself lost. So he was still
lingering there, wondering how he could obtain any headgear, when
the idea suddenly came to him to buy the hat of a dirty old man
whom he saw selling cigars. 'Three sous apiece, Brussels cigars, five
sous a couple, Brussels cigars!'
There had been no customs' service on the frontier, since the battle
of Sedan, so that Belgian articles were flooding the country-side
without let or hindrance. The ragged old fellow had already realised
a handsome profit, but he nevertheless manifested exorbitant
56. pretensions when he understood why Jean wished to buy his hat, a
greasy bit of felt with a hole in the crown. A couple of five-franc
pieces had to be handed him before he would part with it, and even
then he whimpered that he should certainly catch cold.
Another idea, however, had just occurred to Jean, that of purchasing
the remainder of the old fellow's stock in trade, the three dozen
cigars or so which he was still hawking through the camp. And
having accomplished this, the corporal in his turn began walking
about, with the old hat drawn over his eyes, whilst in a drawling
voice he called: 'Three sous a couple, three sous a couple, Brussels
cigars!'
This meant salvation, and he signed to Maurice to walk on before
him. The young fellow, by great good fortune, had just picked up an
umbrella dropped or forgotten by one of the hawkers, and as a few
drops of rain were falling, he quietly opened it so that it might
screen him whilst passing the line of sentinels.
'Three sous a couple, three sous a couple, Brussels cigars!' cried
Jean, who in a few minutes had rid himself of his stock. The other
prisoners laughed and pressed around him; here at all events, said
they, was a reasonable dealer who didn't rob poor folks! Attracted
too by the cheapness of the cigars some of the Prussians even
approached, and Jean had to supply them. He manœuvred so as to
pass the guarded camp-line, and eventually sold his two last cigars
to a big-bearded Prussian sergeant, who did not speak a word of
French.
'Don't walk so quick, dash it all!' he repeated as he walked on behind
Maurice; 'you'll get us caught if you do.'
Their legs were almost running away with them, and only a great
effort induced them to pause for a moment on reaching a crossway,
where some clusters of people were standing outside an inn. Some
French gentlemen were there, peaceably chatting with several
German soldiers; and Jean and Maurice pretended to listen and even
ventured to say a few words about the rain, which it seemed likely
57. would fall heavily during the night. Meantime, a fat gentleman, who
was among the persons present, looked at them so persistently that
they trembled. As he ended, however, by smiling in a good-natured
way, they ventured to ask him in an undertone: 'Is the road to
Belgium guarded, sir?'
'Yes, but go through that wood and then bear to the left, across the
fields.'
When they found themselves in the wood, amid the deep, dark
silence of the motionless trees, when they could no longer hear a
sound, when nothing more stirred and they believed that they were
really saved, a feeling of extraordinary emotion threw them into one
another's arms. Maurice wept, sobbing violently, whilst tears slowly
gathered in Jean's eyes and trickled down his cheeks. Their nerves
were relaxing after their prolonged torments, they hopefully thought
that perhaps suffering would now take some compassion on them
and torture them no longer. And meantime they clasped each other
closely in a distracted embrace, fraught with the fraternity born of all
that they had suffered together; and the kiss that they exchanged
seemed to them the most loving, the most ardent of their life, a kiss
such as they would never receive from a woman, the kiss of
immortal friendship exchanged in the absolute certainty that their
two hearts no longer formed but one, for ever and ever more.
'Youngster,' resumed Jean in a trembling voice, when they had
ceased clasping one another, 'it's already a good deal to be here, but
we are not at the end of the job. We must take our bearings a little.'
Although he was not acquainted with this point of the frontier,
Maurice declared that they need only go on before them; and
thereupon gliding along, one behind the other, they stealthily made
their way to the verge of the plantations. Here they remembered the
directions given them by the obliging fat gentleman, and resolved to
turn to the left and cut across the stubble. But they almost at once
came upon a road edged with poplars, and perceived the watchfire
of a Prussian picket barring the way. A sentinel's bayonet glistened in
the firelight; the other men were chatting and finishing their evening
58. meal. At this sight Jean and Maurice at once retraced their steps and
again plunged into the wood, with the fear of being pursued. They
fancied indeed they could hear voices and footsteps behind them,
and continued beating about the thickets during more than an hour,
losing all idea of the directions they took, turning round and round,
at times breaking into a gallop like hares scampering under the
bushes, and at others stopping short and perspiring with anguish in
front of some motionless oak trees which they mistook for Prussians.
And at last they once more debouched into the road lined with
poplars, at ten paces or so from the sentinel, and near the other
men who were now quietly warming themselves around the
watchfire.
'No luck!' growled Maurice, 'it's an enchanted wood.'
This time, however, they had been heard. They had broken a few
twigs in passing, and some stones were rolling away. And as, upon
hearing the sentinel's 'Wer da?' they immediately took to their heels
without answering, the picket rushed to arms and fired in their
direction, riddling the thicket with bullets.
'Curse it!' swore Jean in a hollow voice, restraining a cry of pain. The
calf of his left leg had received a stinging blow, not unlike the cut of
a whip, but so violent that it had thrown him to the ground against a
tree.
'Are you hit?' asked Maurice anxiously.
'Yes, in the leg—it's done for.'
They both listened again, panting, with the fear of hearing the
tumult of pursuit at their heels. But no further shots were fired, and
nothing more stirred in the great quivering silence, which was falling
around them again. The Prussians evidently did not care to venture
among the trees. However, in trying to set himself erect Jean was
hardly able to restrain a groan. Maurice held him up, and asked:
'Can you walk?'
59. 'I'm afraid not.' He, as a rule so calm, was now becoming enraged.
He clenched his fists, and felt inclined to hit himself: 'Ah! good Lord!
how fearfully unlucky to get one's leg damaged when there's so
much running to be done! I may just as well fling myself on a
rubbish heap at once! Go on by yourself.'
Maurice, however, contented himself with answering gaily: 'How silly
you are!'
He had taken his friend by the arm and was now helping him along,
both of them being eager to get away. By an heroic effort they had
managed to take a few steps, when they again halted, alarmed at
seeing a house in front of them, a little farm, so it seemed, on the
verge of the wood. There was no light in any of the windows, the
yard-gate was wide open, and the building looked black and empty.
And when they had mustered sufficient courage to enter the yard,
they were astonished to find a horse standing near the house,
saddled and bridled, but with nothing to show why or how it had
come there. Perhaps its master would soon return; perhaps he was
lying behind some bush with his head split. But whatever the truth
was, they never learned it.
A new plan, however, had suddenly dawned on Maurice's mind and
quite inspirited him. 'Listen,' said he, 'the frontier is too far away;
and besides, we should really require a guide to reach it. But if we
went to Remilly now, to uncle Fouchard's, I'm sure that I could take
you there with my eyes shut, for I know all the lanes and by-ways.
Is it agreed, eh? I'll hoist you on to this horse, and we'll get uncle
Fouchard to take us in.'
Before starting, however, he wished to examine Jean's leg. There
were two holes in it, so that the bullet must have passed out again,
probably after fracturing the tibia. Fortunately, the hæmorrhage was
but slight, and Maurice contented himself with binding his
handkerchief tightly round the calf of the leg.
'Go on by yourself!' repeated Jean.
'Be quiet, you silly!'
60. When Jean was firmly perched on the saddle Maurice took hold of
the horse's bridle and they started off. It must now have been about
eleven o'clock, and he hoped to accomplish the journey in three
hours, even should he have to walk the horse the entire distance.
But all at once he relapsed into despair at thought of a difficulty
which had not previously occurred to him. How would they be able
to cross over to the left bank of the Meuse? The bridge at Mouzon
must certainly be guarded. At last he remembered that there was a
ferry lower down at Villers, and deciding to chance it, in the hope
that they would at last meet with a little luck, he directed his course
towards that village through the meadows and ploughed fields on
the right bank. All went fairly well at first; they merely had to avoid a
cavalry patrol, which they escaped by remaining motionless for a
quarter of an hour or so, in the shadow thrown by a wall. The only
worry was that, the rain having begun to fall again, walking became
very difficult for Maurice, who had to trudge through the heavy soil
of the drenched fields, beside the horse, which was fortunately a
good-natured, docile animal. At Villers luck did at first declare itself
in their favour, for, although the hour was late, the ferryman had but
a few minutes before brought a Bavarian officer across the river, and
was able to take them aboard at once, and land them on the
opposite bank without difficulty. It was only at the village of Villers
that their terrible troubles began, for they here narrowly missed
falling into the clutches of the sentries who were posted at intervals
right along the road to Remilly. They, therefore, again had to take to
the fields and trust to the chances of the little lanes and narrow
pathways, which often were scarcely practicable. Occasionally some
trivial obstacle would compel them to take a most circuitous course;
still they contrived to make their way over ditches and through
hedges, and at times even forced a passage through some thick
plantation.
Seized with fever amid the drizzling rain, Jean had sunk across the
saddle in a semi-conscious state, clinging with both hands to the
horse's mane, whilst Maurice, who had slipped the reins round his
right arm, had to support his friend's legs in order to prevent him
61. from falling. Over more than a league of country, during nearly a
couple of hours, was this exhausting march kept up, amid incessant
jolting and slipping, both the horse and the men losing their balance
again and again, and almost toppling over together. They became a
picture of abject wretchedness; all three of them were covered with
mud, the animal's legs trembled, the man he carried lay upon him
inert, like a corpse that had just given up the ghost, whilst if the
other man, distracted and haggard, still managed to trudge along, it
was solely through an effort of his fraternal love. The dawn was
breaking; it was about five o'clock when they at last arrived at
Remilly.
In the yard of his little farmhouse overlooking the village, near the
outlet of the defile of Haraucourt, old Fouchard was already loading
his cart with two sheep which he had slaughtered the previous day.
The sight of his nephew in so sorry a plight upset him to such a
point that after the first words of explanation he brutally exclaimed:
'Let you stay here, you and your friend? To have a lot of worry with
the Prussians; no, no, indeed! I'd rather kick the bucket at once.'
All the same, he did not dare to prevent Prosper and Maurice from
taking Jean off the horse and laying him on the large table in the
living-room. The wounded man was still unconscious, and Silvine
went to fetch her own bolster and slipped it under his head.
Meanwhile uncle Fouchard continued growling, exasperated at
seeing this fellow on his table, which, said he, was by no means the
proper place for him. And he asked them why they did not at once
take him to the ambulance, since they were lucky enough to have an
ambulance at Remilly, in the disused school-house, which had once
formed part of an old convent. It stood near the church and
contained a large and commodious gallery.
'Take him to the ambulance!' protested Maurice, in his turn, 'for the
Prussians to send him to Germany as soon as he's cured, since all
the wounded belong to them! Are you joking with me, uncle? I
certainly didn't bring him here to give him back to them.'
62. Things were getting unpleasant, and Fouchard talked of turning
them out of the house, when all at once Henriette's name was
mentioned.
'Eh, what—what about Henriette?' asked the young man.
He ended by learning that his sister had been at Remilly since a
couple of days, having become so terribly depressed by her
bereavement that she now found life at Sedan, where she had lived
so happily with her husband, quite unbearable. A chance meeting
with Dr. Dalichamp of Raucourt, whom she knew, had induced her to
come and stay in a little room at Fouchard's, with a view of giving all
her time to the wounded at the neighbouring ambulance. This
occupation, she said, would divert her thoughts. She paid for her
board, and was the source of many little comforts at the farm, so
that the old man looked on her with a kindly eye. Everything was
first-rate when he was making money.
'Oh, so my sister's here!' repeated Maurice. 'So that's what Monsieur
Delaherche meant by that wave of the arm which I couldn't
understand. Well, as she's here, it will all be easy. We shall stay.'
Thereupon, despite his fatigue, he himself resolved to go and fetch
her from the ambulance where she had spent the night, and his
uncle meantime grew the more angry because he could not take
himself off with his cart and his two sheep, to ply his calling as an
itinerant butcher through the surrounding villages, until this
annoying affair was settled.
When Maurice came back with Henriette, they surprised old
Fouchard carefully examining the horse which had carried Jean to
the farm and which Prosper had just led into the stable. The animal
was no doubt tired out, but it was a sturdy beast, and Fouchard liked
the look of it. Thereupon, Maurice told him with a laugh that he
might keep it if it pleased him, whilst Henriette drew him aside and
explained that Jean would pay for his lodging, and that she herself
would take charge of him and nurse him in the little room behind the
cowhouse, where certainly no Prussian would go to look for him.
63. The old man remained sullen, hardly believing as yet that he would
derive any real profit from the business; still, he ended by climbing
into his cart and driving off, leaving Henriette free to do as she
pleased.
With the assistance of Silvine and Prosper, Henriette then got the
room ready, and had Jean carried to it and laid in a clean,
comfortable bed. Opening his eyes, the corporal looked round him,
but seemed to see nobody, and merely stammered a few incoherent
words. Maurice was now quite overwhelmed by the reaction
following on his exhausting march; however, whilst he was finishing
a bit of meat and drinking a glass of wine, Dr. Dalichamp came in, as
was his custom every morning, prior to visiting the ambulance; and,
thereupon, the young fellow, anxious to know what injury Jean had
received, found strength enough to follow the doctor and his sister
to the bedside.
M. Dalichamp was a short man with a big round head. His hair and
fringe of beard were getting grey; his ruddy face, like the faces of
the peasants, with whom he mixed, had become hardened by his
constant life in the open air, for he was always on the road to
alleviate some suffering or other. His keen eyes, obstinate nose, and
kindly mouth told what his life had been—the life of a thoroughly
worthy, charitable man, inclined, at times, to be rather headstrong.
He was not, as a doctor, endowed with genius, but long practice had
made him a first-rate healer.
'I'm much afraid that amputation will be necessary,' he muttered,
when he had examined Jean, who was still dozing; whereupon
Maurice and Henriette were greatly grieved. However, the doctor
added, 'Perhaps we may manage to save that leg, but in that case
he will need very careful nursing, and it will be a long job. At present
he is in such a state of physical and moral prostration that the only
thing is to let him sleep. We'll see how he is to-morrow.' Then,
having dressed the wound, he interested himself in Maurice, whom
he had formerly known as a lad. 'And you, my brave fellow, you
would be better in bed than on that chair,' he said.
64. The young man was gazing fixedly in front of him, with his eyes afar,
as though he did not hear. Fever was mounting to his brain in the
intoxication of his fatigue, an extraordinary nervous excitement, the
outcome of all the sufferings, all the disgusting experiences he had
passed through since the outset of the campaign. The sight of his
agonising friend, the consciousness of his own defeat, the idea that
he was unarmed, good for nothing, having nothing left him but his
skin, the thought that so many heroic efforts had merely resulted in
such misery—all filled him with a frantic longing to rebel against
Destiny. At last he spoke: 'No, no! it is not finished yet! No, indeed! I
must go away. Since he must lie there now for weeks and perhaps
for months, I cannot stay. I must go away at once. You will help me,
doctor, won't you? You'll find me some means of escaping and
getting back to Paris?'
Henriette, who was trembling, caught him in her arms. 'What is that
you say? Weak as you are, after suffering so dreadfully? But I mean
to keep you—I will not let you go! Haven't you paid your debt to
France? Think of me a little—think that I should be all alone, and
that now I have only you left me!'
Their tears mingled. They embraced distractedly, with that tender
adoring affection which unites twins more closely than others, as
though it originated prior even to birth. Far from becoming calmer,
however, Maurice grew still more excited. 'I assure you that I must
go!' he stammered. 'They are waiting for me. I should die of anguish
if I did not go! You cannot imagine how my brain boils at the
thought of remaining here in peace and quietness. I tell you that it
cannot end like this—that we must avenge ourselves—on whom or
what I know not, but, at any rate, obtain vengeance for so many
misfortunes, so that we may yet have the courage to live!'
Dr. Dalichamp, who had been watching the scene with keen interest,
made Henriette a sign not to answer. Maurice would no doubt be
calmer when he had slept; and he slept indeed all through that day
and through the following night—in all more than twenty hours—
without moving a finger. However, when he awoke the next morning,
65. his resolution to go away came back, unshakeable. His fever had
subsided, but he was gloomy, restless, eager to escape from all the
tempting inducements to a quiet life that he divined around him. His
tearful sister realised that it would be useless to insist. And Dr.
Dalichamp, when he came that day, promised to facilitate his flight
by means of the papers of an ambulance assistant, who had recently
died at Raucourt: Maurice was to don the grey blouse with the red-
cross badge, and go off through Belgium to make his way back to
Paris, which was still open.
He did not leave the farm all that day, but hid himself there, waiting
for the night. He scarcely opened his mouth, and then only to
ascertain if he could induce Prosper to go away with him. 'Aren't you
tempted to go and see the Prussians again?' he asked.
The ex-Chasseur d'Afrique, who was finishing some bread and
cheese, set his fist on the table with his knife upraised.
'Well, for what we saw of them it's hardly worth while,' he answered.
'Since cavalrymen are nowadays good for nothing except to get
themselves killed when it's all over, why should I go back? 'Pon my
word, no, they disgusted me too much in not giving me any decent
work.' There was a pause, and then he resumed, doubtless in order
to silence the voice of his soldier's heart: 'Besides, there's too much
work to be done here, now. The ploughing is just coming on, later
on there'll be the sowing. We must think of the soil, too, eh? It's all
very well to fight, but what would become of us if we didn't plough?
You will understand very well that I can't turn the work up. Not that
old Fouchard's a good master, for I don't expect I shall ever see any
of his brass, but the horses are beginning to know and like me, and
this morning, 'pon my word, whilst I was up yonder in the old
enclosure, I looked down on that cursed Sedan, and felt quite
comforted at finding myself with my horses, driving my plough all
alone, in the sunshine.'
Dr. Dalichamp arrived in his gig at nightfall. He wished to drive
Maurice to the frontier himself. Old Fouchard, delighted to find that,
at any rate, one of the men was taking himself off, went to watch on
66. the road, so as to make sure that no patrol was lurking there; whilst
Silvine repaired some rents in the old ambulance blouse with the
red-cross badge. Before starting, the doctor again examined Jean's
leg, and as yet he could not promise to save it. The wounded man
was still in a somnolent state, recognising nobody, and not saying a
word. And thus it seemed as though Maurice must go off without
exchanging a farewell with his comrade. On leaning forward to
embrace him, however, he suddenly saw him open his eyes, and
move his lips. 'You are going?' asked Jean in a weak voice, adding,
as the others expressed their astonishment: 'Oh! I heard you very
well, though I couldn't stir. But since you are going, old man, take all
the money with you. It's in my trousers' pocket.'
Each of them now had about a couple of hundred francs left of the
treasury money, which they had shared together. 'The money!'
exclaimed Maurice; 'but you need it more than I do. My legs are all
right! With a couple of hundred francs I've ample to take me to Paris
and get my skull cracked, which, by the way, won't cost me
anything. Well, all the same, till we meet again, old man, and thanks
for all your kindness and good counsel, for, if it hadn't been for you,
I should certainly be lying at the edge of some field like a dead dog.'
Jean silenced him with a gesture. 'You don't owe me anything—we
are quits,' said he; 'the Prussians would have picked me up over
there, if you hadn't carried me away on your back. And again, the
other day, too, you saved me from their clutches. That's twice you've
paid me, and it's rather my turn to risk my life for you. Ah! I shall be
anxious now at not having you with me any longer.' His voice was
trembling, and tears started from his eyes: 'Kiss me, youngster.'
And they kissed; and, as it had been in the wood on the night of
their escape, their embrace was instinct with the fraternity born of
the dangers that they had incurred together, during those few weeks
of heroic life in common, which had united them far more closely
than years of ordinary friendship could have done. The days of
starvation, the sleepless nights, the excessive fatigues, the constant
peril of death—with all of these was their emotion fraught. Can two
67. hearts ever take themselves back when by a mutual gift they have
thus been blended together? Nevertheless, the kiss which they had
exchanged amid the darkness of the trees had partaken of the new
hope that flight had opened to them; whereas this kiss, now,
quivered with the anguish of parting. Would they meet again, some
day? And how—in what circumstances of grief or joy?
Dr. Dalichamp, who had climbed into his gig again, was already
calling Maurice. Then, with all his soul, the young fellow at last
embraced his sister, Henriette, who, extremely pale in the black
garments of her widowhood, was looking at him and silently
weeping. 'I confide my brother to you,' said he; 'take good care of
him, and love him, as I love him myself!'
CHAPTER IV
DARK DAYS—BAZAINE THE TRAITOR—THE TIDE OF WAR
Jean's room, a large chamber with a tiled floor and lime-washed
walls, had formerly been used as a fruitery. You could still detect
there the pleasant scent of apples and pears, and the only furniture
was an iron bedstead, a deal table and two chairs, together with an
old walnut wardrobe, wonderfully deep and containing a multitude of
things. The quietness was profoundly soothing; only a few faint
sounds from the adjacent cowhouse could be heard, the occasional
lowing of cattle and the muffled stamping of their hoofs. The bright
sunshine came in by the window, which faced the south. Merely a
strip of slope could be seen, a cornfield skirted by a little wood. And
this mysterious closed room was so hidden away from every eye that
no stranger could even have suspected its existence.
Henriette immediately settled how things were to be managed. In
view of avoiding suspicions it was arranged that only she and the
doctor should have access to Jean. Silvine was never to enter the
68. room unless she were called—for instance, at an early hour in the
morning when the two women tidied the place; after which the door
remained as though walled up, throughout the day. If the wounded
man should need anyone at night-time, he would merely have to
knock on the wall, for the room occupied by Henriette was adjacent.
And thus it came to pass that after many weeks of life amid a violent
multitude, Jean suddenly found himself separated from the world,
seeing no one but the doctor and that gentle young woman whose
light footsteps were inaudible. And whilst she ministered to his
wants with an air of infinite goodness, he again saw her as he had
espied her on the first occasion, at Sedan, looking like an apparition,
with small and delicate features save that her mouth was somewhat
large, and with hair the hue of ripened grain.
During the earlier days the wounded man's fever was so intense that
Henriette scarcely left him. Dr. Dalichamp dropped in every morning,
under pretence of fetching her to go to the ambulance with him; and
he would then examine Jean's leg and dress it. After fracturing the
tibia, the bullet had passed out again, and the doctor was
astonished at the bad appearance of the wound, and was afraid
there might be some splinter there—though in probing he was
unable to detect any—which would necessitate an excision of the
bone. He had spoken on the subject to Jean, but the latter revolted
at the thought of having his leg shortened and going lame all the
rest of his life: no, no, indeed, he would rather die at once than
become a cripple. The doctor therefore simply kept the wound under
observation, dressing it with lint soaked in olive oil and phenic acid,
after inserting a gutta-percha drainage-tube, so that the pus might
flow away. At the same time, however, he warned Jean that if he did
not perform an operation the cure would probably take a very long
time. Yet it happened that the fever abated during the second week,
when the state of the wound also became more favourable—at least
so long as the patient remained quite still.
Henriette's intercourse with Jean was then regulated in a systematic
way. Habits came to them both; it seemed to them as though they
had never lived otherwise, as though they would go on living like