Читать книгу The Downfall (La Débâcle) - Emile Zola - Страница 11

The camp was raised on Tuesday, August 23, at six o'clock in the morning, and the hundred thousand men of the army of Châlons set out on the march, flowing away in an immense stream, like some human river resuming its torrential course after expanding for a time into a lake. Despite the rumours current the evening before, it was a thorough surprise to many of the men to find that, instead of continuing their movement of retreat, they now had to turn their backs on Paris, and march towards the East—towards the Unknown.

At five o'clock in the morning, the Seventh Army Corps had not received any cartridges. For two days past the artillerymen had been exhausting themselves in removing their horses and matériel from the railway station, which was encumbered with supplies sent back from Metz. And it was only at the last moment that the vans laden with the ammunition were discovered among the fearful jumble of trains, and that a fatigue company, of which Jean formed part, was able to remove some 240,000 cartridges in hastily requisitioned vehicles. Jean distributed the regulation hundred cartridges to each of the men of his squad at the very moment when Gaude, the company's bugler, began to sound the march.

The 106th did not have to pass through Rheims. Its orders were to skirt the town and make for the Châlons high road. Once again, however, the commanders had neglected to regulate the men's departure at proper intervals, and, as the four army corps set out at the same time, extreme confusion arose when they debouched from the various bye-roads into the highways they were to follow in common. At every moment the artillery and cavalry intercepted the infantry, and compelled the latter to halt. Entire brigades had to wait for an hour in ploughed fields, and with arms grounded, until the roads should become clear. The worst was that a frightful storm burst some ten minutes after the start—a perfect deluge, which fell during more than an hour, soaking the men to the skin and rendering their heavy capotes and knapsacks still more oppressive. The 106th, however, was able to resume its march just as the rain was ceasing; whilst some Zouaves, who were still obliged to wait in a field hard by, devised, by way of taking patience, a little pastime to amuse themselves—that of assailing one another with balls of earth, huge lumps of mud, the splashing of which on the uniforms of those who were hit provoked uproarious laughter. Almost immediately afterwards the sun reappeared, the triumphant sun of a warm August morning. Then gaiety returned, the men steamed—much as washing steams before the fire—and they were soon dry, looking like so many dirty dogs pulled out of a pond, and joking with one another respecting the hard crusty mud that dangled from their red trousers. It was still necessary to stop and wait at each cross road, but at last there came a final halt at the end of one of the Rheims suburbs, just in front of a tavern, which never seemed to empty.

It then occurred to Maurice to stand treat to the squad by way of wishing them all good luck—'if you'll allow it, corporal,' said he.

After hesitating for a moment, Jean accepted a drop of something short. Loubet and Chouteau were there, the latter slyly respectful since he had seen Jean's fists so near his face; and Pache and Lapoulle were there also, good fellows both of them, when others did not set them agog. 'To your health, corporal!' said Chouteau, in an unctuous voice.

'To yours, and may we all bring our heads and feet back,' politely replied Jean, amid an approving titter.

The others were starting, however, and Captain Beaudoin had already drawn near, apparently greatly shocked, and bent on reprimanding the tipplers, whereas Lieutenant Rochas, indulgent when his men were thirsty, affected to look in another direction. And now they sped along the road to Châlons, an endless ribbon, edged with trees and stretching in a straight line right across the vast plain, with stubble extending far away on either side, and dotted here and there with lofty ricks and wooden mills, whose sails were turning. More to the north were rows of telegraph posts, indicating other roads on which the dark lines of other troops on the march could be discerned. Several regiments also cut across the fields in dense masses. In the van, on the left, a brigade of cavalry trotted along, quite dazzling in the sunlight. And the entire horizon, at other times so blank, so mournfully empty and limitless, became animated and populous with these streams of men gushing forth from all directions, these apparently inexhaustible myriads that poured, as it were, out of some gigantic ant-hill.

At about nine o'clock the 106th wheeled to the left, quitting the road to Châlons for another straight, endless, ribbon-like highway, conducting to Suippe. The men were marching in two open files, leaving the centre of the road clear. The officers walked along there at their ease, and Maurice noticed how strongly their thoughtful air contrasted with the good humour and satisfied sprightliness of the men, who were as pleased as children to find themselves on the march again. The squad being almost at the head of the regiment, he also obtained a distant view of M. de Vineuil, and was greatly struck by the gloomy carriage of the colonel's tall, stiff frame, which swayed with the motion of his horse. The band had been packed off to the rear among the sutlers' carts. And accompanying the division came the ambulance vans and equipage train, followed by the convoy of the entire army corps, the forage waggons, the provision vans, the baggage waggons, a stream of vehicles of every description, more than three miles in length, and looking like an interminable tail when, at the few bends of the road, it was possible to obtain any view of it. A herd of cattle brought up the extreme rear in the far distance—a straggling drove of big oxen stamping alone in a cloud of dust; the live, whip-driven meat, as it were, of some warlike migratory people.

Meanwhile, Lapoulle from time to time hoisted up his knapsack by dint of shrugging his shoulders. Under pretence that he was stronger than his comrades, he was often laden with the utensils of the squad, such as the large stew-pot and the water-can. On this occasion he had also been entrusted with the company's spade, which he had been told it was an honour to carry. He did not complain, however; in fact, he was laughing at a song with which Loubet, the tenor of the squad, was enlivening the long tramp. Loubet's knapsack, by the way, was celebrated for its contents, which comprised something of everything: linen, spare shoes, needles and thread, brushes, chocolate, a metal cup, a spoon and fork, without counting the regulation provisions, biscuits and coffee; and, although he also had his cartridges inside it, and a rolled blanket, a shelter tent and pegs strapped to it outside, the whole seemed to be wonderfully light, so accomplished was he in the art of packing.

'A beastly part!' muttered Chouteau, from time to time, as he cast a disdainful glance at the mournful plains of 'la Champagne pouilleuse.'

The vast expanses of chalky soil still stretched out on either side in endless monotony. Not a farm nor a human being was to be seen; nothing but some flights of crows dotting the grey immensity. Afar off, on the left, some dark green pine woods crowned the gentle undulations that limited the horizon; whilst on the right a long line of trees indicated the course of the river Vesle; and on that side, for the last league or so, some dense smoke had been seen rising from behind the hills, its mingled coils at last blotting out the horizon with the huge, frightful cloud of a conflagration.

'What's burning over there?' the men asked on every side.

The explanation promptly sped from the van to the rear of the column. It was the camp of Châlons which had been blazing for two days past, set on fire, as it was said, by the Emperor's orders, so that the wealth of supplies gathered together there might not fall into the enemy's hands. The rear-guard cavalry had been instructed to fire both a huge wooden building called the Yellow Magazine, which was full of tents, pickets, and matting, and another large closed shed known as the New Magazine, in which shoes, blankets and mess utensils were stored in sufficient quantities to equip another hundred thousand men. The ricks of forage, which had also been fired, smoked like gigantic torches; and the army, now marching across the vast, dreary plain, became sadly silent at sight of the livid, whirling smoke-clouds, which spread out from behind the distant hills, and slowly covered the sky with a veil of irreparable mourning. Under the glaring August sun no sound was to be heard save the regular tramp-tramp of the march, but the men's faces were persistently turned towards the spreading smoke, which during another league or so seemed to be pursuing the column as though to enshroud it in the cloudy gloom of disaster.

Gaiety returned at the midday halt, when the men, whilst eating a morsel, sat and rested on their knapsacks among some stubble. The large square biscuits were simply intended for steeping in the soupe, but the little round ones were for eating dry, and, being light and crisp, were quite nice. Their only fault was that they made one terribly thirsty. At his comrades' request, Pache now sang a hymn, which the squad took up in chorus. Jean, smiling good-naturedly, let them do so, whilst Maurice grew more and more confident at sight of the general flow of spirits, the good order, and good humour that prevailed during this first day of the march. And the remainder of the allotted distance was accomplished in the same vigorous fashion, though the last five miles proved very trying. They had left the village of Prosnes on their right, and had quitted the high road to cut across some uncultivated ground, a sandy lande planted with copses of pine trees, between which wound the entire division, followed by the interminable convoy, the men sinking in the sand up to their ankles. The solitude now seemed to have become more vast, and the only living creatures they encountered were some emaciated sheep, guarded by a big black dog.

At last, at about four o'clock, the 106th halted at Dontrien, a village on the banks of the Suippe. The little river meanders between tufts of foliage, and the old church stands in a graveyard, which a gigantic horse-chestnut tree fairly covers with its spreading shade. The regiment pitched its tents in a sloping meadow on the left bank of the stream. According to the officers, the four army corps would bivouac that night along the line of the Suippe from Auberive to Heutrégiville, by way of Dontrien, Béthiniville and Pont-Faverger, with a front extending along a distance of nearly five leagues.

Gaude immediately sounded the call to rations, and Jean, the great purveyor in ordinary, ever on the alert, had to hurry off, taking Lapoulle with him. They returned in half an hour's time with a rib of beef and a faggot of wood. Three oxen of the drove that followed in the rear of the army had already been slaughtered and cut up. Lapoulle then had to go off again to fetch the bread which had been baking since noon in the village ovens. Excepting wine and tobacco, which were never once distributed during the whole period, there was on this occasion an abundance of everything.

Jean, on his return, had found Chouteau engaged in pitching the tent with Pache's assistance. He looked at them for a moment like an experienced old soldier who considered they were making a mess of the job, and finally remarked: 'Well, that'll do since it's going to be fine to-night. But if it were windy we should all be blown into the river. I shall have to teach you how to pitch the tent properly.'

Then he thought of sending Maurice to fetch some water in the large can, but he saw that the young fellow had seated himself on the grass, and had taken off his shoe to examine his right foot. 'Hallo! what's up?' asked Jean.

'The counter has rubbed the skin off my heel. My other shoes were going to pieces, and at Rheims, stupidly enough, I chose these because they were just my size. I ought to have taken a larger pair.'

Kneeling down, Jean took hold of Maurice's foot and turned it round as gently as though he were dealing with a child. 'It isn't a laughing matter,' he said, shaking his head; 'you must be careful. A soldier who can't depend on his feet may just as well be chucked on a rubbish heap. My captain was always saying, out in Italy, that battles are won with men's legs.'

Thereupon, Jean sent Pache to fetch the water, which, after all, was an easy task, since the river was only some fifty yards away. Meantime, Loubet, having lighted the wood in a hole which he had dug in the ground, was able to set the large pot upon it, dropping the meat, which he had skilfully secured together with string, into the warm water. Then came the blissful enjoyment of watching the soupe boil. Fatigue duties being over, all the men of the squad, full of tender solicitude for the cooking meat, had stretched themselves on, the grass around the fire. Like children and savages, brutified by this march towards the Unknown with its uncertain morrow, they now seemed to care for nothing but eating and sleeping.

Maurice, however, had found in his knapsack one of the newspapers he had bought at Rheims, and Chouteau on seeing it exclaimed: 'Is there any news of the Prussians? You must read it to us.'

Under Jean's steadily increasing authority the men were now getting on fairly well together; and Maurice obligingly began to read all the interesting news, whilst Pache, the squad's needlewoman, mended a tear in his overcoat for him, and Lapoulle cleaned his gun. First of all there was an account of a great victory gained by Bazaine, who was said to have thrown an entire Prussian army corps headlong into the stone quarries of Jaumont; and this imaginary narrative[20] was a dramatically circumstantial one; the enemy's men and horses were said to have been crushed to death among the rocks, annihilated in fact, to such a degree, that not one whole body was left for burial! Then came copious particulars respecting the pitiful condition of the German armies since they had entered France. Badly fed and badly equipped, the men had fallen into a state of complete destitution, and, stricken with fearful maladies, were dying en masse by the wayside. Another article related that the King of Prussia had the diarrhœa, and that Bismarck had broken his leg in jumping out of the window of an inn where some Zouaves had almost caught him. That was capital! Lapoulle laughed from ear to ear, whilst Chouteau and the others, who did not for one moment entertain the shadow of a doubt, felt wondrous bold at the idea that they would soon be picking up Prussians like sparrows in a field after a hailstorm. But it was especially Bismarck's fall that amused them. The Zouaves and the Turcos were plucky devils, and no mistake. All sorts of legends were current concerning these fellows, who not merely made Germany tremble but angered her as well. It was disgraceful, so the German papers declared, that a civilised nation should employ such savages in her defence. And although these so-called savages had already been decimated at Frœschweiler, it seemed to the French as if they were still intact and invincible.

Six o'clock was striking from the little steeple of Dontrien when Loubet called: 'The soupe is ready!' The squad seated itself devoutly round the pot. At the last moment Loubet had been able to procure some vegetables from a peasant living close by, so that the broth had a fine scent of carrots and leeks, and was as soft to the palate as velvet. Then Jean, the distributor, had to divide the meat into strictly equal portions, for the men's eyes were aglow, and there would certainly have been much growling had any one portion appeared to be in the smallest degree larger than the others. Everything was devoured, the men gorging themselves to their very eyes.

Even Maurice felt replete and happy, no longer thinking of his foot, the smarting of which was passing away. He now accepted this brutish comradeship, principles of equality being forced upon him, by the physical needs of their common life. That night, too, he enjoyed the same sound slumber as his five companions, the whole lot of them being heaped together in the tent, well pleased at feeling themselves warm whilst the dew was falling so abundantly outside. It should be added that Lapoulle, egged on by Loubet, had removed some large armfuls of straw from a neighbouring rick, and on this the six men snored as comfortably as though they had been provided with feather beds. And in the clear night, along the pleasant banks of the Suippe, flowing slowly between the willows, the camp fires of those hundred thousand men illumined the five leagues of plain from Auberive to Heutrégiville, like trailing stars.

Coffee was made at sunrise, the grains being pounded in a platter with the butt of a gun, and thrown into boiling water, to which a drop of cold water was added in order to precipitate the grounds. The sun rose that morning with regal magnificence, amid great clouds of gold and purple. Maurice, however, no longer looked at the horizon or the sky, and only Jean, like the thoughtful peasant he was, gazed with an expression of uneasiness at this ruddy dawn which betokened rain. Indeed, before they started, when the bread baked the day before had been given out, and Loubet and Pache had fastened the three long loaves which the squad received to their knapsacks, he blamed them for having done so. The tents were already folded, however, and everything had been strapped to the knapsacks, so that he was not listened to. Six o'clock was striking from all the village steeples when the army set out again, gallantly resuming its forward march in the early hopefulness of this new day.

To reach the road from Rheims to Vouziers the 106th almost immediately began cutting along by-ways and ascending slopes of stubble. This lasted during more than an hour. Lower down, towards the north, Béthiniville, where the Emperor was said to have slept, could be seen embowered in trees. Then, on reaching the Vouziers road, they again found themselves among plains similar to those of the day before. The last sorry fields of 'la Champagne pouilleuse' were here spread out in all their dispiriting monotony. A meagre stream, the Arne, now flowed on the left, whilst the vast expanse of barren land stretched away on the right, so flat that the distance of the horizon was considerably increased. The soldiers passed through some villages, St. Clément, with its only street winding along the road, and St. Pierre, a large place inhabited by well-to-do folks, who had barricaded their doors and windows. The men halted at about ten o'clock near another village, St. Etienne, where, to their great delight, they were able to procure some tobacco. The Seventh Corps had now become divided into several columns, and the 106th marched on with merely a battalion of foot Chasseurs and the reserve artillery behind it. Vainly did Maurice turn round at the bends of the road, in the hope of seeing the immense convoy which had so greatly interested him the day before; the herds were no longer there, and he could only espy the cannon which—as they rolled over this low level plain—looked larger than they really were, seeming not unlike dark grasshoppers with unusually long legs.

After passing St. Etienne, however, the road became frightful; it ascended by gentle winding slopes through large barren fields dotted with little woods of pine trees, ever the same, and which, with their foliage of a blackish green, looked infinitely mournful amid the expanse of white soil. The troops had not passed through such a desolate scene before. Badly metalled, moreover, and softened by the last rains, the road was a perfect bed of mud, of liquefied grey argil, to which the feet adhered as to pitch. The fatigue of marching consequently became extreme, and the exhausted men no longer made way. As a crowning worry, violent showers suddenly began to fall. But little more was needed, and the artillery, which had stuck in the mire, would have remained there.

Out of breath, and infuriated with his crushing burden, Chouteau, who was carrying some rice distributed to the squad, flung it away at a moment when he thought himself unobserved. But Loubet had seen him, and remarked: 'That's a dirty trick to play, for it means short commons for everyone.'

'Humbug!' replied Chouteau; 'there's plenty of everything, so we can get some more when we halt.'

Influenced by this specious reasoning, Loubet, who was carrying the bacon, rid himself of his burden in his turn.

Meantime, as his heel had again become inflamed, Maurice experienced increasing suffering, and he dragged his leg along so painfully that Jean, becoming more and more solicitous concerning him, ventured to ask: 'Aren't you all right? Has it begun again?' Then, when a brief halt was ordered, just to give the men breathing time, he proffered some good advice: 'Take your shoes off and walk barefooted. The fresh mud will take the smarting away.'

Indeed, in this fashion Maurice was able to keep up with the others without much difficulty; and he felt profoundly grateful to Jean. It was real luck that the squad should have such a corporal as that, a man who had served before, and who was up to all the tricks of the trade: an uncultured peasant, no doubt, but all the same a thorough good fellow.

It was late when, after crossing the road from Châlons to Vouziers, and diving by a rapid descent into the ravine of Semide, they reached Contreuve, where they were to bivouac. The country was now changing; they were already in the Ardennes, and from the far-stretching, barren hills above the village, which were selected as the camping ground of the Seventh Corps, one could discern the valley of the Aisne afar off, obscured by the pale shower-laden clouds.

At six o'clock, as Gaude had not yet sounded the call to rations, Jean, by way of occupying his time, and anxious, too, on account of the strong wind which was rising, determined to pitch the tent himself. He showed his men that they ought to select a somewhat sloping site, fix the pegs slantwise, and dig a little trench round the canvas for the rain-water to run into. On account of his foot Maurice was exempted from all fatigue duties, and he simply looked on, surprised at the intelligent skill which that sturdy, heavy-looking fellow Jean displayed. For his own part, he was physically overcome by fatigue, but his spirits were buoyed up by the hope that was now returning to every heart. They had done a terrible lot of marching since leaving Rheims, thirty-eight miles in two days. If they maintained the same speed, going straight before them, they must certainly succeed in overthrowing the second German army and joining hands with Bazaine, before the third one, under the Crown Prince of Prussia, who was said to be at Vitry-le-François, was able to reach Verdun.

'Hallo! Are they going to let us die of hunger?' asked Chouteau, when seven o'clock came, and no rations had yet been distributed.

Jean had prudently told Loubet to light a fire and set the large pot, full of water, on it; and as they had no wood he discreetly shut his eyes whilst Loubet, by way of procuring some, tore down several palings inclosing a neighbouring garden. When Jean began to talk, however, of cooking some rice and bacon, it became necessary to confess that the rice and bacon had remained behind, on the muddy road near St. Etienne. Chouteau lied with effrontery, swearing that the packet of rice must have slipped off his knapsack without his noticing it.

'You pigs!' exclaimed Jean, infuriated, 'to throw food away when there are so many poor devils with their stomachs empty!'

Then, too, with regard to the bread, the men had not listened to him at starting; and the three loaves fastened to the knapsacks had been thoroughly soaked by the showers, softened to such a degree that they were now like so much pap and quite uneatable. 'A nice pickle we're in!' repeated Jean; 'we had everything we wanted, and now we haven't even a crust! What hogs you fellows are!'

Just then a bugle call summoned the sergeants to orders, and the melancholy-looking Sapin came in to inform the men of his section that, as no distribution of rations could take place, they must content themselves with their field supplies. The convoy, it was said, had remained behind on the road on account of the bad weather, and the drove of cattle had gone astray owing to conflicting orders. It was learnt, later on, that as the Fifth and Twelfth Corps had marched that day in the direction of Rethel, where head quarters were to be established, all the provisions in the villages, as well as the inhabitants, who were feverishly anxious to see the Emperor, had flowed towards that town; so that the country lying before the Seventh Corps was virtually drained of everything. There was no more meat, no more bread, and there were even no more people. To make the destitution complete, the commissariat supplies had been sent to Le Chêne Populeux through a misunderstanding. Great throughout the campaign was the despair of the wretched commissaries, against whom the soldiers were for ever crying out, though, often enough, their only fault was that they punctually reached appointed places where the troops never arrived.

'Yes, you dirty pigs!' repeated Jean, quite beside himself, 'it serves you right! You are not deserving of the trouble I'm going to take to try and find something for you; because, after all, it's my duty not to let you kick the bucket on the road.' Thereupon he started on a journey of discovery, like every good corporal should do under the circumstances, taking with him Pache, whom he liked on account of his gentleness, though he considered him far too fond of priests.

Meantime, Loubet had noticed a little farmhouse standing two or three hundred yards away, one of the last houses of Contreuve, where, it seemed to him, a good deal of business was being done. Calling Chouteau and Lapoulle, he said to them: 'Let us have a try. I fancy we can get some grub over there.'

Maurice was left to mount guard over the pot of boiling water, with orders to keep the fire alight. He had seated himself on his blanket, with his shoe off so that the sore on his heel might dry. He was interested at the sight which the camp presented with all the squads at sixes and sevens since they had learnt that there would be no distribution of provisions. He became conscious that some of the troops were always short of everything, whilst others lived in abundance; in fact, it all depended on the foresight and skill of the corporals and the men. Amid the stir and bustle around him, he noticed, on glancing between the tents and the piles of arms, that some fellows had not even been able to light a fire, and that others, resigning themselves to circumstances, had already retired for the night; whilst others again, on the contrary, were eating, he could not tell what, but doubtless something nice, with keen appetite and relish. He was also struck by the beautiful order that prevailed among the reserve artillery encamped on a hill above him. As the sun set, it shone forth between two clouds, casting a glow over the guns, which the artillerymen had already carefully cleansed of all the mud that they had been splashed with during the march.

Meantime the commander of the brigade, General Bourgain-Desfeuilles, had installed himself comfortably at the little farmhouse whither Loubet and his comrades had betaken themselves. The general had found a fairly good bed there, and was seated before an omelet and a roast fowl, which had put him in an excellent humour; and Colonel de Vineuil having come to speak to him respecting some matter of detail, he had invited him to stay and dine with him. So they both sat there eating, waited upon by a big, fair fellow, who had only been three days in the farmer's employ, and who declared himself to be an Alsatian refugee, carried away in the rout of Frœschweiler. The general talked openly in presence of this man, commented on the march of the troops, and then, forgetting that the fellow did not belong to the Ardennes, began questioning him respecting the roads and the distances. Painfully affected by the thorough ignorance which the general's questions revealed, the colonel, who, for his part, had formerly resided at Mézières, supplied some precise particulars, whereupon the general vented his feelings in the exclamation: 'How idiotic it all is! How can one fight in a country one knows nothing whatever about?'

The colonel made a vague, despairing gesture. He knew very well that maps of Germany had been distributed to all the officers as soon as ever war was declared, whereas not one of them had a map of France in his possession. All that the colonel had seen and heard during the past month, had contributed to overwhelm him. Somewhat weak, and of limited capacity, liked rather than feared by his men, he no longer felt able to exercise authority; of all his powers, courage alone remained to him.

'Can't one even dine quietly?' suddenly shouted the general. 'What are they brawling about? Here, you, the Alsatian, go and see what it all means.'

The farmer, however, made his appearance, exasperated, gesticulating and sobbing. He was being plundered—some Chasseurs and Zouaves were pillaging his house. Being the only person in the village who had any eggs, potatoes, and rabbits to dispose of, he had been foolish enough to think of doing a bit of trade. Without cheating the men overmuch, he pocketed their money and handed over his goods; so much so that his customers, becoming more and more numerous, at last quite bewildered and overwhelmed him, and ended by pushing him aside and taking whatever they could lay their hands on without paying him another copper. If so many peasants, during the war, hid all they possessed and refused the soldiers at times even a drink of water, it was through fear of the slow, irresistible onslaught of some such human tide, which, once admitted, might sweep them out of doors and carry away their homes.

'Ah! my good fellow, just let me be!' replied the general to the complaining farmer, with an air of displeasure. 'We should have to shoot a dozen of those rascals every day, and we can't do it.' Thereupon he ordered the door to be shut, so that he might not be obliged to act rigorously, whilst the colonel explained that no rations having been distributed, the men were hungry.

Meantime, Loubet had found a field of potatoes near the house, and had rushed at it in company with Lapoulle, both of them tearing up the plants, grubbing up the potatoes with their hands, and filling their pockets with them. But on hearing Chouteau, who was looking over a low wall, whistle to them to approach, they ran up, and at the sight they beheld vented their feelings in exclamations. A flock of a dozen magnificent geese was promenading majestically in a narrow courtyard. The men at once held council, and Lapoulle was prevailed upon to jump over the wall. There was a terrible fight; the goose he seized almost bit off his nose with its terrible shear-like bill, whereupon he caught it by the neck and tried to strangle it, whilst it dug its powerful webbed feet into his arms and stomach. At last he had to crush its head with a blow of his sturdy fist, but even then it continued struggling and he made all haste to decamp, followed by the other birds of the flock, who were tearing his legs.

As the three men returned, with the goose and the potatoes stowed away in a sack, they met Jean and Pache coming back, well pleased, on their side, with the result of their expedition, for they were laden with four new loaves and a cheese, purchased of a worthy old peasant woman. 'The water's boiling, so we'll make some coffee,' said the corporal. 'We have some bread and some cheese—it'll be a regular feast.'

But he suddenly perceived the goose stretched out at his feet, and could not help laughing. He felt the bird in a knowing way, and was quite overcome with admiration. 'The devil!' said he, 'she's plump and no mistake. She must weigh about twenty pounds.'

'We happened to meet her,' explained Loubet with that waggish air of his, 'and she desired to make our acquaintance.'

Jean waved his hand, as much as to say that he did not wish to know any more. Men must live, and, besides, why shouldn't these poor devils, who could hardly remember what poultry tasted like, have a bit of a treat once in a way? Loubet was already lighting a bright fire, whilst Pache and Lapoulle tore the feathers off the bird, and Chouteau ran up to the artillery camp to ask for a piece of string. When he returned he hung the goose from a couple of bayonets in front of the bright fire, and Maurice was appointed to give it a dig now and then, so as to make it turn. The fat fell into the squad's platter placed underneath, and the entire regiment, attracted by the savoury smell, formed a circle around. And what a feast there was! Roast goose, boiled potatoes, bread and cheese! When Jean had cut up the bird, the squad began gorging. There was no question of portions, they one and all tucked away till they could eat no more; and a piece was even presented to the artillerymen who had provided the string.

It happened that evening that the officers of the regiment had to fast. Owing to wrong directions, the sutler's van had gone astray; it had no doubt followed the great convoy. Although the men suffered when no rations were given out, they generally ended by securing something to eat—they helped one another, the soldiers of each squad shared whatever they happened to have; but the officer, isolated, left to his own resources, had no alternative but to starve when the canteen did not turn up. Accordingly, Chouteau, who had heard Captain Beaudoin complaining of the disappearance of the provision van, began to sneer and jeer when—whilst tackling some of the goose's carcass—he saw the captain pass by with a proud, stiff air. 'Look at him,' he said, tipping the others a wink. 'See how he's sniffing. He'd give five francs for the parson's nose.'

They all began to laugh at the captain's hunger, for he was not popular among his men; they considered him too young and too severe, too prone to reprimand them unnecessarily. It seemed for a moment as if he intended to reprove the squad for the scandal which that goose of theirs was causing; but the fear no doubt of showing how hungry he was, induced him to walk off with his head erect as if he had seen nothing. As for Lieutenant Rochas, who was also feeling terribly hungry, he meandered round the fortunate squad, laughing in a good-natured way. He was greatly liked by his men, first because he execrated that puppy, the captain, who owed his rank as an officer to his attendance at the military school of St. Cyr, and, secondly, because in time past he had carried the knapsack like themselves. And yet he was not always a pleasant customer to deal with, being at times so coarse and insulting in his language that he positively deserved cuffing. After exchanging glances with his comrades, by way of consulting them, Jean rose up and induced Rochas to follow him behind the tent. 'Beg pardon, sir,' he said, 'but without offending you, may we offer you some of this?' And thereupon he passed him a large piece of bread with a platter on which was one of the goose's legs, atop of half a dozen large potatoes.

Again that night the squad needed no rocking to sleep. The six men digested that bird with their fists clenched. They owed thanks to the corporal for the firm manner in which he had pitched their tent, for they were not even aware of a violent squall which blew over the camp at about two o'clock in the morning, accompanied by driving rain. Some tents were carried away, and the men, starting from their sleep, were soaked through, and had to run hither and thither in the darkness; but the squad's tent resisted the onslaught of the wind, and the men were comfortably under cover with not a drop of water to inconvenience them, thanks to the little trenches into which the rain dribbled.

Maurice awoke at daybreak, and, as the march was not to be resumed before eight o'clock, he decided to climb the hill where the reserve artillery was encamped, so as to shake hands with his cousin Honoré. After that good night's rest his foot caused him less pain. He was struck with admiring astonishment on seeing how well the park was dressed, the six guns of each battery correctly aligned and followed by the caissons, ammunition, and forage vans, and field smithies. Farther off, the picketed horses were neighing with their heads turned towards the rising sun. And Maurice immediately found Honoré's tent, thanks to the orderly system that allots one row of tents to the men of each gun; so that the number of guns is clearly indicated by the aspect of an artillery encampment.

The artillerymen were already up, and were taking their coffee, when Maurice arrived and found that a quarrel had broken out between Adolphe, the front driver, and his chum Louis, the gunner. They had got on very well together, except with regard to messing, during the three years that they had chummed together—according to the system by which, in the French artillery, a driver and a gunner are coupled. Louis, who was very intelligent, and the better educated of the two, cheerfully accepted the state of dependence in which every mounted man keeps the footman his comrade, and he pitched the tent, performed the fatigue duties, and looked after the soupe, whilst Adolphe, with an air of superiority, simply attended to his two horses. At the same time, however, Louis, who was dark and thin and afflicted with an excessive appetite, revolted when his comrade, a tall fellow with bushy fair moustaches, presumed to help himself like a master. That morning, for instance, the quarrel had arisen through Louis accusing Adolphe of drinking all the coffee which he, Louis, had made. It became necessary to reconcile them.

Every morning, immediately after the reveille, Honoré went to have a look at his gun, and saw that the night dew was carefully wiped from it in his presence, just as though it were a question of rubbing down some favourite horse, for fear lest it should catch cold. And he was standing there, like a father, watching the gun shine in the clear atmosphere of the dawn, when he recognised Maurice: 'Hallo!' he said; 'I knew that the 106th was near by. I received a letter from Remilly, yesterday, and I meant to have gone down to you. Let's go and drink a cup of white wine.'

So that they might be alone together, he took him towards the little farmhouse plundered the day before, whose peasant owner, altogether incorrigible and still eager for gain, had now tapped a cask of white wine in view of playing the taverner. He served the liquor on a plank outside his door, at a charge of four sous the glass, being assisted in the work by the man whom he had engaged three days previously, the colossal, fair-haired Alsatian. Honoré and Maurice were already chinking glasses, when the eyes of the former fell upon the so-called refugee. For an instant he scanned his face with an air of stupefaction. Then he swore a terrible oath: 'By the thunder of God! Goliath!'

He sprang forward, wishing to seize the scamp by the throat, but the farmer, imagining that his house was about to be pillaged afresh, darted back and barricaded the door. There was a moment's confusion, and all the soldiers present rushed forward, whilst the infuriated quartermaster almost choked himself with shouting: 'Open! open! you cursed fool! The fellow's a spy; I tell you, he's a spy!'

Maurice no longer doubted it. He had fully recognised the man who had been set at liberty at the camp of Mulhausen for lack of proof against him, and this man was Goliath, whom old Fouchard of Remilly had formerly employed. When the farmer, however, was at last prevailed upon to open his door, they searched the farm in vain, the so-called Alsatian had disappeared. That good-natured looking, fair-haired colossus, whom General Bourgain-Desfeuilles had questioned to no purpose whilst dining the day before, and in whose presence he had carelessly confessed his own ignorance and bewilderment, had gone off! The rascal had no doubt jumped out by a back window, which was found open, but it was in vain that they scoured the surrounding fields; huge though he was, the fellow had vanished like smoke.

Maurice was obliged to lead Honoré away, for in his despair the quartermaster was on the point of telling his comrades more than was advisable of certain sad family affairs which they had no need to know. 'Thunder! I should have so liked to strangle him!' said Honoré; 'I was the more enraged against him on account of the letter I've received.' Then, as they had both seated themselves against a rick at a few steps from the farmhouse, he handed the letter in question to Maurice.

That love affair between Honoré Fouchard and Silvine Morange was but the old, old story. She, a dark-complexioned girl, with beautiful submissive eyes, had, when very young, lost her mother, a workwoman employed at a factory at Raucourt. She was a natural child, and Dr. Dalichamp, her godfather, a worthy man who was always ready to adopt the offspring of the poor creatures he attended, had found her a situation as servant girl with Fouchard, the father. The old peasant, who in his eagerness for gain had turned butcher, hawking his meat through a score of surrounding villages, was certainly frightfully avaricious, and a pitiless hard master as well; but the doctor reasoned that he would watch over the girl, and that she, providing she worked well, would at all events not lack her daily bread. In any case, she would escape the loose life of the factory. Then it naturally came to pass that young Fouchard and the little servant girl fell in love with one another. Honoré was sixteen when she was twelve, and when she was sixteen he was twenty. Then, when he drew his number at the conscription, he was delighted to find it a good one, and determined to marry her. There had never been any impropriety between them; Honoré was, indeed, of a calm, thoughtful disposition, and at the most they had kissed each other in the barn. However, when Honoré broached the subject of the marriage to his father, the latter was exasperated, and stubbornly declared that it should not take place whilst he was living. Still, he kept the girl in his service, thinking, perhaps, that the young fellow's fancy would pass off; hoping, too, possibly, for things that did not happen. Two years went by, and Honoré and Silvine still loved each other, and longed to marry; but at last there was a terrible scene between the father and the son, and the latter, unable to remain any longer in the house, enlisted, and was sent to Algeria, whilst the old man obstinately kept his servant girl, with whom he was well satisfied.