Читать книгу The Downfall (La Débâcle) - Emile Zola - Страница 13

When Maurice rose on the morrow, August 26, he was aching all over, and his shoulders were quite sore after that night spent in the tent. He was not yet accustomed to sleeping on the hard ground, and as orders had been issued the previous evening forbidding the men to take off their shoes, and the sergeants had gone round feeling in the darkness to make sure that everyone was properly shod and gaitered, his foot was scarcely any better, being still painful and feverishly hot. Besides, he must have caught cold in his legs when he had allowed them to project beyond the canvas in view of stretching himself. Jean immediately said to him: 'If we are marching to-day you would do well to see the major,[22] and get him to put you into one of the vans.'

Nothing certain was known, however; the most contradictory rumours were current. At one moment it was thought they were about to resume their march, for the camp was raised and the army corps passed through Vouziers, leaving only a brigade of the Second Division on the left bank of the Aisne, to continue watching the road from Monthois. Then, on reaching the right bank, on the other side of the town, the men were suddenly halted, and arms were piled in the fields and meadows extending right and left of the road to Grand-Pré. At this moment the departure of the 4th Hussars, who set out along this Grand-Pré road at a fast trot, gave rise to all sorts of conjectures.

'If the regiment remains here, I shall stay with you,' declared Maurice, who did not at all care for that idea of the major and the ambulance van.

They soon learned, indeed, that they were to encamp there until General Douay had obtained precise information respecting the enemy's march. Since the day before—since he had seen Margueritte's division proceed up-country towards Le Chêne Populeux—the general's anxiety had been increasing, for he knew that he was no longer covered, that there was no longer a single man guarding the defiles of the Argonne, and that consequently he might be attacked at any moment. On this account he had just despatched the 4th Hussars to reconnoitre the country as far as the defiles of Grand-Pré and La Croix-aux-Bois, with orders to procure him some information at any cost.

Bread, meat and forage had been given out the day before, thanks to the energy of the Mayor of Vouziers; and that morning, at about ten o'clock, orders had just been issued that the men might cook their soupe—since they might not be able to do so later on—when a general flutter was occasioned by the departure of some more troops, General Bordas's brigade, which took the same road as the Hussars. What was up? Were they all going to start? Wouldn't they be allowed to have a quiet meal now that the pots were on the fires? Some of the officers thereupon explained that Bordas's brigade had simply received orders to occupy Buzancy, a few miles away, whilst others, it must be admitted, asserted that the Hussars had come in contact with a large force of the enemy's cavalry, and that the brigade had been sent to the front to extricate them.

Maurice now enjoyed a few delightful hours of repose. He had stretched himself out in a field, where the regiment was encamped halfway up the height, and, numbed as it were with fatigue, he lay there gazing over the verdant valley of the Aisne, with its meadows dotted with tufts of trees through which the river slowly coursed. In front of him Vouziers was reared, built in amphitheatral fashion, and closing the valley, its roofs rising one above the other, crowned by the dome-covered tower and the tapering steeple of the church. Down below, near the bridge, the tannery chimneys were smoking, whilst at the other end of the town the buildings of a large mill, white with flour, were to be seen among the foliage on the river bank. And this view of the little town, rising above the tall rushes, was in Maurice's eyes invested with a tender charm as though he had again become a sensitive being, a dreamer. His youth seemed to be coming back to him, the days long past which he had spent at Vouziers at the time when his home was at Le Chêne, his native place. For an hour or so he forgot everything else.

The soupe had long since been eaten, and the men were still waiting, when at about half-past two o'clock an increasing agitation spread through the camp. Orders sped right and left, the meadows were evacuated, and all the troops climbed and ranged themselves on the hills between a couple of villages, Chestres and Falaise, lying some two or three miles apart. The Engineers at once began digging trenches and raising breast-works, whilst the reserve artillery placed itself on the left, crowning a hillock there. A rumour spread that General Bordas had just sent an estafette to say that having encountered superior forces at Grand-Pré he was forced to fall back on Buzancy, which made one fear that his line of retreat on Vouziers might soon be intercepted. The commander of the Seventh Corps, believing an attack imminent, had therefore decided to place his men in position so that he might withstand the onslaught until the remainder of the army came up to support him; and one of his aides-de-camp had already started off with a letter, informing Marshal MacMahon of the situation, and asking him for help. Then, fearing the embarrassment which might be occasioned by that interminable convoy of supplies, which had again joined the corps during the night, the general set it in motion at once, ordering it, in haphazard fashion, to proceed in the direction of Chagny. All this meant fighting.

'So it's serious, sir, this time?' Maurice ventured to ask Lieutenant Rochas.

'Oh, yes—— it!' replied the lieutenant waving his long arm; 'you'll see how hot it will be by-and-by.'

All the men were delighted. Since the line of battle had been formed from Chestres to Falaise the animation of the camp had become still greater, and feverish impatience was seizing hold of the men. At last, then, they were about to see those Prussians, whom the newspapers described as being worn out with marching and exhausted by disease, who were said to be famished and clad in rags; and the hope of overthrowing them at the first brush raised everybody's courage.

'So we've found one another at last, and a good job too,' said Jean. 'We've been playing at hide and seek quite long enough; ever since we lost each other near the frontier, after that battle. But are these the ones who beat MacMahon?'

Maurice hesitated, and was unable to answer. According to what he had read at Rheims, it seemed to him difficult that the third German army, commanded by the Crown Prince of Prussia, could be at Vouziers when a couple of days previously it appeared to have encamped in the vicinity of Vitry-le-François. There had certainly been some mention of a fourth army, under the orders of the Crown Prince of Saxony, which was to operate on the Meuse; and probably it was this one that they were about to encounter, though the rapidity of the occupation of Grand-Pré astonished him, as the Meuse was so far away. Maurice's ideas became altogether confused, however, when, to his stupefaction, he heard General Bourgain-Desfeuilles asking a peasant of Falaise whether the Meuse did not pass by Buzancy, and whether there were not some strong bridges there. Moreover, in his serene ignorance, the general asserted that they were about to be attacked by a column of one hundred thousand men coming from Grand-Pré, whilst another of sixty thousand was advancing by way of Ste. Menehould.

'And your foot?' asked Jean, addressing Maurice.

'I no longer feel it,' the latter replied, with a laugh. 'If we fight, I shall be all right.'

This was true; such intense nervous excitement buoyed him up that he no longer seemed to tread the ground. To think that he had not burnt a cartridge since the campaign began! He had marched to the frontier, he had spent that terrible night of anguish before Mulhausen, without seeing a Prussian, without firing a shot; and then he had been obliged to retreat, first to Belfort, and then to Rheims; and now for five days past he had again been marching to meet the enemy, and his chassepot was still immaculate, unused. He experienced an increasing need, a slowly gathering longing to level his gun and fire at anyone or anything, in order to ease his nerves. During the six weeks or so that had elapsed since he had enlisted in a spasm of enthusiasm, imagining that he would fight the very next day, he had only employed his poor delicate feet in running away and tramping along, afar from any field of battle. Thus it happened that amid the feverish expectancy of the entire corps, he was one of those who consulted with the most impatience that Grand-Pré road, which stretched far away into the distance in a straight line between two rows of lovely trees. The valley where the Aisne coursed like a silver ribbon among the poplars and the willows, was spread out below him; but his eyes returned perforce to the road lying yonder.

There was an alert at about four o'clock. The 4th Hussars came back after a long round, and stories of some encounters they had had with Uhlans, repeated with increasing exaggeration by all who heard them, began to circulate; confirming everyone in the impression that an attack was imminent. A couple of hours later a fresh estafette arrived with a scared look, and explained that General Bordas no longer dared to leave Grand-Pré, as he was convinced that the road to Vouziers was cut. This was not yet the case, since the estafette had been able to pass without hindrance; still it might occur at any moment, and accordingly General Dumont, the commander of the division, set out with his remaining brigade to extricate the other. The sun was now setting behind Vouziers, whose roofs stood out blackly against a large red cloud. For a long time the men in camp were able to see the brigade as it marched along between the rows of trees, but at last it faded from sight in the growing darkness.

When Colonel de Vineuil came to make sure that his men were in good positions for the night, he was astonished not to find Captain Beaudoin at his post. The captain arrived, however, from Vouziers at that very moment, and when by way of excusing himself he explained that he had been lunching at Baroness de Ladicourt's, in the town, he received a severe reprimand, which, it must be admitted, he listened to in silence, in the irreproachable attitude of a smart officer.

'My lads,' the colonel repeated, as he passed among his men, 'we shall no doubt be attacked to-night or certainly to-morrow morning at daybreak. Mind you are ready, and remember that the 106th has never retreated.'

They all acclaimed him; and indeed, in the weariness and discouragement that had been growing upon them since their departure from Rheims they all longed to finish matters with a tussle. The chassepots were examined and the needles changed; and then, as they had eaten their soupe in the morning, the men contented themselves, that night, with some coffee and biscuit. They received orders not to turn in; and picket guards were stationed at some sixteen hundred yards from the camp, whilst sentinels were placed as far away as the banks of the Aisne. The officers sat up watching around the camp fires; by the leaping glow of one of which, near a low wall, it was possible to distinguish every now and then the embroidery on the garish uniforms worn by the commander-in-chief and his staff, together with shadows that moved rapidly and anxiously, hastening at times towards the road to listen there for the sound of horses' hoofs—so intense was the disquietude concerning the fate of the Third Division.

At about one in the morning Maurice was stationed as sentry at the edge of a field of plum trees, between the road and the river. The night was as black as ink, and as soon as he found himself alone in the overwhelming silence of the sleeping country he felt a sensation of fear take possession of him, a terrible fear which he had never before experienced, and which he was unable to conquer, despite a tremor of anger and shame. He turned round in the hope that the sight of the camp fires would tranquillise him, but they were hidden by a little wood, and only a sea of darkness stretched behind him, save that at a great distance away a few solitary lights shone out from the houses of Vouziers, whose inhabitants, warned, no doubt, of the state of affairs, and shuddering at the idea of the approaching battle, had not retired to rest. What completed Maurice's fright was that on levelling his chassepot he found that he could not even distinguish its sight. Then began a cruel spell of waiting, with all the faculties of his being centred in the sense of hearing—his ears open to almost imperceptible sounds, and filling at last with a thunderous uproar. The trickling of some distant water, the light stir of some leaves, the spring of an insect—all acquired a deafening sonority. Was not that the gallop of horses, the continuous rumble of artillery coming straight towards him from over yonder? What was that sound he heard on the left—was it not a cautious whisper, the stifled voices of some advanced guard creeping forward in the darkness and preparing a surprise? On three occasions he was on the point of firing to give the alarm. The fear of being mistaken, of appearing ridiculous, increased his discomfort. He had knelt down, resting his left shoulder against a tree, and it seemed as if he had been there for hours, as if he had been forgotten and the army had gone away without him. Then suddenly he no longer felt frightened, but clearly distinguished the rhythmical tread of infantry marching along the road, which he knew to be some two hundred yards away. He immediately felt convinced that this was General Dumont, bringing back Bordas's brigade, the troops who had remained in distress at Grand-Pré, and whose return was so anxiously awaited. Just then he was relieved, his sentry duty having barely lasted the regulation hour.

It was, indeed, the Third Division returning to the camp, and the relief was immense. But at the same time more minute precautions were taken, for the information brought back by the returning generals confirmed all that the commander thought he knew respecting the enemy's approach. A few prisoners had been brought in, some dark Uhlans, draped in large cloaks, but these refused to answer the questions put to them. The morning twilight, the lurid dawn of a rainy day was now rising amid the unremitting expectancy, fraught with enervating impatience, that filled every breast. For nearly fourteen hours the men had not dared to close their eyes. At about seven o'clock Lieutenant Rochas related that MacMahon was approaching with the entire army. The truth, however, was that General Douay, in reply to his despatch of the previous day, announcing that a battle near Vouziers was inevitable, had received a letter from the marshal telling him to hold out until it was possible to support him. The army's forward movement was now arrested, the First Corps advanced upon Terron, and the Fifth on Buzancy, whilst the Twelfth remained at Le Chêne, to form a second line there; and now the general expectancy increased, no mere engagement was to be fought, but a great battle, in which the entire army would participate, for which purpose it was turning aside from the Meuse to march southwards through the valley of the Aisne. The men again had to content themselves with coffee and biscuit, their commanders not daring to let them cook their soupe since the tussle was for noon at the latest—at least so everybody repeated, without knowing why. An aide-de-camp had just been despatched to the marshal with the view of hastening the arrival of the expected succour, since the approach of the two hostile armies was becoming more and more certain; and three hours later another officer galloped off to Le Chêne, where head quarters were established, to ask for orders, so greatly had General Douay's disquietude increased in consequence of the information brought him by a village mayor, who declared he had seen a hundred thousand men at Grand-Pré, whilst another hundred thousand were coming up by way of Buzancy.

Noon came, but there was still not a Prussian to be seen. One o'clock, two o'clock passed, still nothing. Then lassitude came, and with it doubt. In bantering voices the men began to jeer at their generals, who had taken fright, perhaps, at sight of their own shadows on some wall. It would be a charity to provide them with spectacles. Nice humbugs they were to have set everybody agog for nothing! And a wag called out: 'Is it the same as it was at Mulhausen, then?'

On hearing this, Maurice, in the anguish of his recollections, felt a pang at his heart. He remembered that foolish flight, that panic which had carried the Seventh Corps ten leagues away, although not a single German had shown himself! And the same affair was beginning again; he was fully convinced of it. If the enemy had not attacked them, now that four-and-twenty hours had elapsed since the skirmish of Grand-Pré, it could only be that the 4th Hussars had simply come into collision with some reconnoitring party of the enemy's cavalry. The hostile columns must still be far off, perhaps a couple of days' march away. This idea suddenly terrified Maurice, for he thought of all the time that the French had lost. In three days they had barely covered a distance of two leagues from Contreuve to Vouziers. On the 25th the other army corps had marched northward, under pretence of obtaining supplies, whilst now, on the 27th, they were descending southwards to accept a battle that no one offered them. Following the 4th Hussars towards the abandoned defiles of the Argonne, Bordas's brigade had fancied itself lost; and this had entailed the immediate advance of the remainder of the division that it belonged to, the immobilisation of the entire Seventh Corps, and finally the southward march of the rest of the army—all to no purpose! And Maurice reflected that each hour was of incalculable value, given that mad plan of joining Bazaine, a plan which only a general of genius could have executed with the help of veterans, and provided that he rushed straight before him and through every obstacle, like a blizzard.

'We are done for!' Maurice exclaimed, seized with despair in a sudden brief flash of lucidity.

Then, as Jean, to whom he addressed himself, opened his eyes wide, failing to understand him, he continued in an undertone, so that his words might only reach the corporal's ear: 'The commanders are stupid rather than malicious, that's certain, and they have no luck! They know nothing, they foresee nothing, they have no plan, no ideas, no lucky chances—Ah! everything's against us!'

The discouragement which possessed Maurice, and which he analysed like an intelligent, well-educated man, was increasing and weighing more and more heavily upon all the troops who were immobilised there, consumed with waiting and expectation. Doubt and a presentiment of the truth were dimly penetrating their sluggish brains; and there was not a man among them, however limited his mental powers, who did not experience an uneasy consciousness that he was badly commanded, and ought not to have been where he was; though on the other hand he could not exactly tell why it was that he felt so exasperated. What were they doing there, good heavens! since the Prussians did not appear? Let them either fight at once or go off somewhere where they could sleep in peace. They had had quite enough of it. The anxiety went on increasing every minute after the departure of the last aide-de-camp despatched to Le Chêne for orders, and the men gathered together in groups and discussed matters openly. Their agitation even gained the officers, who did not know what to reply to those who were bold enough to question them. And thus it came to pass that every breast was lightened as of a grievous burden, and gave vent to a sigh of profound delight when, at five o'clock, a report spread that the aide-de-camp had returned, and that they were now about to fall back!

So prudence had at last gained the upper hand! The Emperor and MacMahon, who had never been in favour of that advance on Montmédy, and who felt uneasy at the news that they had again been outmarched by the foe, and were about to find both the army of the Crown Prince of Prussia and that of the Crown Prince of Saxony confronting them, renounced all idea of that improbable junction with Bazaine, and decided upon retreating by way of the northern strongholds, in such a manner as to fall back eventually upon Paris. The Seventh Corps received orders to proceed to Chagny by way of Le Chêne Populeux, whilst the Fifth was to march on Poix, and the Fifth and Twelfth on Vendresse. But if they were to fall back, why had they thus advanced to the Aisne—why had so many days been lost—why had they been subjected to so much fatigue, when it would have been so easy and so logical for them, at the time they were at Rheims, to have taken up strong positions forthwith in the valley of the Marne? Had their commanders no managing capacity, no military talent, no common-sense even? However, the men no longer took the trouble to question one another; they forgave the past in their delight at the sensible decision which had at last been arrived at—the only method by which they might extricate themselves from the wasp's nest into which they had ventured. From the generals down to the rank and file, one and all felt that they could again recover strength—nay, prove invincible—under Paris, and that it was there that they would beat the Prussians. But it was necessary to evacuate Vouziers at daybreak, so that they might be on their march to Le Chêne before being attacked, and the camp at once became the scene of extraordinary animation, the bugles sounded and orders crossed, whilst the baggage train and army-service convoy started in advance so as to lighten the rear-guard.

Maurice was delighted, but while he was endeavouring to explain to Jean the movement of the retreat which they were about to execute, he suddenly gave vent to a cry of pain. His excitement had fallen, and he again felt his foot weighing his leg down like lead. 'What's up? Has it begun again?' asked the corporal, really grieved. Then, as an idea came into that practical head of his, he added: 'Listen, youngster; you told me yesterday that you had some friends at Le Chêne, the town where we are going. Well, you ought to get the major's permission to drive there. You would have a good night's rest in a comfortable bed, and to-morrow, should you be able to walk better, we could take you up on our way. Eh? Does that suit you?'

It so happened that Maurice had found an old friend of his father's at Falaise, the village near which they were encamped; and this man, a petty farmer, was about to take his daughter to Le Chêne, to confide her to the care of an aunt there, and had a horse, harnessed to a light cart, already waiting to start.

Matters nearly turned out badly, however, at the very first words that Maurice addressed to Major Bouroche: 'I have injured my foot, Monsieur le docteur,' he began.

On hearing this, Bouroche, shaking his large lion-like head, roared out: 'I'm not Monsieur le docteur! Who on earth has sent me such a soldier as you?' And as Maurice, quite scared, began to stammer an apology, he resumed: 'I'm the major; do you hear me, you idiot?' Then realising the kind of man he had to deal with, he, doubtless, felt somewhat ashamed of himself, for he flew into a yet more violent tantrum: 'Your foot! a fine affair! Yes, yes, I allow you. Get into a cart, get into a balloon if you like. We've got quite enough dawdlers and pillagers already!'

When Jean helped Maurice to hoist himself into the cart, the latter turned round to thank him; and the two men fell into each other's arms as if they were not likely ever to see one another again. Indeed, who could tell—what with the commotion of the retreat and those Prussians who were near by? Maurice was surprised to feel how great was the affection that already attached him to Jean. He turned round twice to wave his hand to him; and then he set out from the camp, where preparations were now being made to light some large fires, for the purpose of deceiving the enemy as to the army's presence, whilst in reality the troops marched off, in the strictest silence, before the dawn of day.

Once on the road, the petty farmer who was driving Maurice did not cease to bewail the evil times. He had lacked the necessary courage to remain at Falaise, and yet he already regretted having left it, repeating that he would be utterly ruined if the enemy should burn his house. His daughter—a tall, pale creature—was crying. Maurice, however—drunk, as it were, with weariness—did not hear either of them, but slept on in a sitting posture, rocked by the rapid trot of the little horse, which in less than an hour and a half covered the four leagues lying between Vouziers and Le Chêne. It was not yet seven o'clock, and the twilight had scarcely fallen, when the young fellow, shivering and perplexed, alighted on the Place, near the bridge spanning the canal, and in front of the narrow yellow house where he had been born and had spent the first twenty years of his life. He was going there in a mechanical sort of way, oblivious of the fact that the house had been sold to a veterinary surgeon some eighteen months previously. When the farmer questioned him on the subject, he answered that he knew very well whither he was bound; and then thanked him repeatedly for his kindness in giving him a lift.

However, whilst approaching the well in the centre of the little triangular Place, he stopped short, dazed, and with his head quite empty. Where did he really intend to go? Suddenly he remembered that he had previously decided to call at the notary's house, which adjoined his former home, to ask hospitality of the notary's mother, that venerable, good-hearted old lady, Madame Desroches, who in a neighbourly way had spoilt him when he was a child. But he could scarcely recognise Le Chêne, usually such a dead-alive little place, amid the extraordinary agitation that now prevailed in it, owing to the presence of the army corps which was camping in its outskirts and filling its streets with officers, army followers, prowlers, and laggards of all descriptions. He certainly recognised the canal, crossing the town from end to end and cutting athwart the central Place, the two triangular sections of which were united by a narrow stone bridge. Over there, too, on the other bank, the mossy-roofed market could readily be identified, together with the Rue Berond plunging down on the left, and the road to Sedan stretching away on the right. Only, from the spot where he stood, it was necessary that he should raise his eyes and search for the slated belfry crowning the notary's house, to make sure that this was the once deserted corner where he had played at hopscotch; to such a degree, indeed, did the Rue de Vouziers in front of him now swarm with people, flowing along in a compact crowd as far as the town-hall. It seemed to him that an open space was being kept on the Place, and that some men were making the inquisitive townsfolk retire; and, in fact, behind the well he beheld to his astonishment quite an assemblage of vehicles, vans and waggons, a perfect baggage camp, which he had certainly seen somewhere before.

It was still light, the sun had scarcely sunk in the unrippled water of the canal, tinging it as with blood, and Maurice had just decided what course he would adopt, when a woman, standing near by, who had been looking at him for a few moments, exclaimed: 'Good heavens! but I'm surely not mistaken; you are young Levasseur?'

In his turn, he then recognised Madame Combette, wife of a chemist whose shop was on the Place, and he began to explain to her that he was going to ask worthy Madame Desroches for a bed; but at this she became strangely agitated and dragged him away, saying: 'No, no, just come indoors with me. I will explain matters to you.' Then, when they were in the shop and she had carefully closed the door, she added: 'What, don't you know, my dear boy, that the Emperor is stopping at the Desroches' house? It was requisitioned for him, and the Desroches are by no means pleased with the honour, I can tell you! To think that the poor old lady, a woman of over seventy, has been obliged to give up her room to go and sleep under the eaves in a servant's bed! Everything you see on the Place there belongs to the Emperor; it's his luggage, you understand.'

Yes, indeed, Maurice now well remembered that he had seen those vans and carts—all the superb train, in fact, of the imperial household—while he was at Rheims.

'Ah! my dear boy, if you only knew what a number of things have been taken out of those vans—silver plate, and bottles of wine, and baskets of provisions, and beautiful linen, and all manner of other things besides! It went on without stopping for a couple of hours. I wonder where they can have put so many things, for the house isn't a large one. Just look! See what a fire they've lighted in the kitchen!'

Maurice then turned to glance at the little two-storeyed white house, which stood at the corner of the Place and the Rue de Vouziers, a house of quiet bourgeoise aspect, the disposition of which he pictured to himself as readily as though he had been inside it only the day before. Downstairs there was the central passage running right through the house, and then on each floor there were four rooms. The corner first-floor window, overlooking the Place, was already lighted up, and the chemist's wife explained that this was the window of the Emperor's room. However, as she had already indicated, by far the greater blaze was in the kitchen, which was on the ground floor, with a window facing the Rue de Vouziers. The inhabitants of Le Chêne had never previously seen such a sight as this kitchen now presented, and the street was blocked with an incessantly renewed stream of inquisitive people all agape in front of that fiery furnace, where an emperor's dinner was roasting and boiling. So that they might have a little fresh air the cooks had set the window wide open. There were three of them, attired in dazzling white jackets, now fluttering about in front of the fowls impaled on a tremendously long spit, and now stirring the sauces which were simmering in huge copper pans that shone like gold. And the oldest inhabitants could not remember having ever seen so much fire burning, and so much food cooking at the same time, even on the occasion of the grandest wedding feasts given at the White Lion Inn.

Combette, the chemist, a restless, weazen, little man, returned home greatly excited by all he had seen and heard. He appeared to be in the secret of what was passing, owing to his position as assessor to the mayor. It was at about half-past three that MacMahon had telegraphed to Bazaine that the arrival of the Crown Prince of Prussia at Châlons compelled him to fall back upon the northern fortresses; and another despatch was about to be sent to the Minister of War, warning him of the retreat, and explaining to him that the army was in imminent peril of being cut in twain and annihilated. As for the despatch addressed to Bazaine, that might go and welcome, but it was doubtful whether it would ever get to him, for all communications with Metz appeared to have been intercepted for some days past. The other telegram, however, was a much more serious affair; and the chemist, lowering his voice, related that he had heard an officer of high rank remark: 'If they should be warned in Paris we are dished!' This was easily understood, for everyone was aware of the bitter fierceness with which the Empress-Regent and the Ministerial Council incited the army to a forward march. However, the confusion was increasing every hour, and the most extraordinary intelligence was arriving respecting the approach of the German armies. Was it possible that the Crown Prince of Prussia could be at Châlons? In that case, to what army belonged the Uhlans with whom the Hussars of the Seventh Corps had come in conflict in the defiles of the Argonne?[23]

'They know nothing at head quarters,' continued the chemist, waving his arms in a despairing way. 'Ah! what a fearful muddle! Still, everything will be all right if the army retreats to-morrow.' Then, kind-hearted man that he was at bottom, he resumed: 'Listen to me, my young friend. I will dress your foot: you shall dine with us and sleep upstairs in my assistant's little room, since he's bolted.'

Tormented, however, by a desire to see and learn, Maurice determined that first of all he would follow out his original idea by paying old Madame Desroches a visit. He was surprised that he was not stopped at the door of the house, which, amid all the tumult on the Place, remained wide open without even a sentry to guard it. Various people, officers and servants, were continually going in and coming out, and it seemed as though the commotion prevailing in the kitchen had extended to the entire premises. However, there was no light on the stairs up which Maurice had to grope his way. With beating heart, he paused for a few seconds on the first landing, in front of the door of the room which he knew to be occupied by the Emperor, but not a sound came from this room, a death-like silence prevailed there. And up above, when he reached the threshold of the servant's chamber where Madame Desroches had been compelled to take refuge, the poor old lady was at first quite frightened at sight of him. Having recognised him, however, she exclaimed: 'Ah! my child, in what a dreadful moment do we meet! I would willingly have given the Emperor my house, but he has such frightfully ill-bred people with him! If you only knew how they have laid hands on everything, and they certainly must mean to burn all the fuel, for they are keeping up such monstrous fires! The poor man is as pale as though he had just stepped out of the grave, and he looks so sad.' Then, as the young fellow went off, after trying to tranquillise her, she crossed the landing and leant over the banisters. 'There!' she muttered, 'you can see him from here—Ah! we are certainly all lost! Farewell, my child!'

Maurice had remained standing on the stairs in the darkness. On craning his neck forward he beheld, through a fan-light, so remarkable a scene that it dwelt for ever afterwards in his memory. At one end of the cold, plainly furnished room, the Emperor sat at a small table, laid for dinner and lighted on either side by a candle. In the background were two silent aides-de-camp, whilst a maître d'hôtel stood beside the table, waiting. The glass had not been used, the bread had not been touched, some fowl's breast lying on the plate was getting cold. The Emperor sat there stock-still, looking at the table-cloth with those dim, wavering, watery eyes that Maurice had already noticed at Rheims. But he seemed to be even more weary now, and when, apparently with a great effort, he had made up his mind and had carried a couple of mouthfuls to his lips, he pushed all the rest aside. He had dined. An expression of intense suffering, endured in secret, made his pale face look even whiter than before.

Downstairs, the door of the dining-room was opened just as Maurice passed out, and, amid the flare of the candles and the smoke of the dishes, he perceived a tableful of equerries, aides-de-camp, and chamberlains, who were emptying the bottles from the vans, devouring the fowls, and polishing off the sauces between loud bursts of conversation. Since the marshal's despatch had gone off, the conviction that they were about to retreat had been filling all these folks with delight. In another week or so they would be in Paris, and have clean beds again.

Then Maurice suddenly realised how terribly he was overcome with fatigue. It was, indeed, certain—the whole army was about to retreat, and that being so, there was nothing for him to do but to sleep pending the arrival of the Seventh Corps. He crossed the Place again, and once more found himself at the chemist's, where he dined as though in a dream. Then it certainly seemed to him that his foot was dressed and that he was carried into a room upstairs. Black night, annihilation followed. He slept on, overwhelmed, and scarcely breathing. After an uncertain lapse of time, however—hours or centuries, he could not tell—a shudder disturbed his slumbers, and he sat up in bed in the profound darkness. Where was he? What was that continuous roar of thunder that had awakened him? All at once his memory returned, and he hastened to the window to look out. In the obscurity down below a regiment of artillery was crossing the Place, usually so quiet at night time; the men, horses, and guns following each other in endless succession, at a trot which made the little lifeless houses fairly shake. Unreasoning disquietude took possession of Maurice as he beheld this sudden departure. What time could it be? The town-hall clock struck four. He was endeavouring to tranquillise himself, reflecting that the scene he witnessed must simply be the outcome of the orders issued the previous afternoon, when on turning his head he perceived something which gave the finishing stroke to his anguish. The corner first-floor window at the notary's house was still lighted up, and at regular intervals the dark shadow of the Emperor was profiled upon the curtains.

Maurice quickly slipped on his trousers, intending to go downstairs, but at this moment Combette appeared on the threshold carrying a candlestick and gesticulating. 'I saw you from below just as I came back from the town-hall,' he said, 'and I came up to tell you the news. Just fancy! they haven't let me go to bed! For two hours past the mayor and I have had to attend to fresh requisitions. Yes, once again everything is altered. Ah! that officer who didn't want any telegram to be sent to Paris was in the right!'

He continued talking for a long time in imperfect, disjointed phrases; and Maurice, who remained silent, with anguish in his heart, ended by understanding him. At about midnight a telegram for the Emperor had arrived from the Minister of War, in reply to that sent to Paris by the marshal. The exact wording of the despatch was not known; but an aide-de-camp had openly declared at the town-hall that the Empress and the Ministerial Council feared there would be a revolution in Paris if the Emperor abandoned Bazaine and returned there. Those who had drawn up the despatch, inaccurately informed as to the true positions of the German forces, seemed to believe that the army of Châlons had an advance upon the enemy which it no longer possessed, and with an extraordinary burst of passion insisted, despite everything, on a forward march.

'The Emperor sent for the marshal,' added the chemist, 'and they remained shut up together during nearly an hour. Of course, I don't know what they said to each other, but all the officers have repeated to me that we are no longer retreating, and that the march on the Meuse is resumed. We have just requisitioned all the ovens in the town for the First Corps, which to-morrow morning will arrive here in place of the Twelfth, whose artillery, as you can see for yourself, is at this moment starting for La Besace. This time it's settled; you are marching to battle.' He paused. He also was looking at the lighted window at the notary's. Then, with a thoughtful, inquisitive air, he resumed in an undertone: 'Yes; what can they have said to one another? It's comical all the same. A man's threatened with danger, and, in order to avoid it, he decides at six o'clock that he will retreat; then, at midnight, he rushes head first into that very danger, although the situation remains identical.'

Maurice was still listening to the guns as they rolled along through the little black town down below, to the horses trotting past without cessation, to the men flowing away towards the Meuse, towards the terrible Unknown of the morrow. And, meantime, on the little window curtains he still saw the Emperor's shadow pass by at regular intervals; the shadow of that invalid, kept on his legs by insomnia, pacing to and fro, feeling that he must needs continue on the move despite all his sufferings, and with his ears full of the noise made by all those horses and soldiers whom he was sending to death. So a few hours had sufficed, and now the disaster was decided upon, accepted! What, indeed, could they have said to each other, that Emperor and that marshal, both of whom were aware of the calamity to which they were marching, who in the evening had been convinced of defeat—given the frightful situation in which the army would henceforth find itself—and who could not have changed their opinion in the morning since the peril was increasing hour by hour? General de Palikao's plan, the lightning march on Montmédy, already a hazardous venture on August 22, still susceptible, possibly, of accomplishment on the 25th, with veterans and a captain of genius, became on the 27th an act of sheer madness in presence of the continual hesitation of the commanders and the increasing demoralisation of the troops. If both Emperor and marshal knew this, why did they yield to the pitiless voices that goaded them on in their indecision? The marshal, perhaps, had but the limited, obedient mind of the soldier, great in its abnegation. And the Emperor, who no longer commanded, was awaiting destiny. They were asked to give their lives and the lives of the army, and they consented to give them. That was the Night of the Crime—the abominable night when a nation was murdered, for thenceforward the army was in distress, one hundred thousand men were sent to the slaughter!

Despairing and shuddering, Maurice thought of all these things as he watched that shadow on Madame Desroches' dainty muslin curtains, that feverish shadow ever on the tramp, and which the pitiless voice coming from Paris seemed to be urging on. Had not the Empress wished that night for the father's death so that the son might reign? March! march! without a glance behind, under the rain and through the mud, march to extermination, so that this supreme final game for possession of an agonising empire may be played out to the last card! March! march! die like a hero on the piled-up corpses of your people; strike the whole world with compassionate admiration so that it may forgive your posterity! And doubtless the Emperor was marching to death. The kitchen was no longer blazing down below; the equerries, the aides-de-camp, the chamberlains were all asleep; the whole house was black, save for that lighted window, on the curtains of which the shadow was incessantly passing to and fro, the shadow of one who had quietly resigned himself to the fatal sacrifice amid all the deafening uproar occasioned by the Twelfth Army Corps, which was still marching along in the darkness.

It suddenly occurred to Maurice that if the forward march were resumed the Seventh Corps would not pass through Le Chêne, and he pictured himself left behind, separated from his regiment as though he had deserted. His foot no longer smarted, a skilful dressing, and a few hours of complete rest had calmed its feverishness. When Combette had given him a pair of shoes, broad shoes in which he was quite at his ease, he became desirous of starting at once, hoping that he might still meet the 106th on the Vouziers road. After vainly endeavouring to detain him, the chemist had half made up his mind to drive off with him in his gig, and scour the roads in the chance hope of finding the army corps, when Fernand, Combette's assistant, turned up and explained that he had only absented himself to go and see after a cousin whom he was in love with. It was this tall, pale fellow, with the look of a poltroon, who then put the horse to the trap and drove off with Maurice. It was not yet five o'clock; the rain was streaming like a deluge from the inky sky, and the lamps of the vehicle were dimmed and barely lighted the road, which ran through a vast drenched stretch of country full of tumultuous sounds that caused them to pull up at each half-mile, in the belief that an army was near at hand.

Meantime Jean, in the camp before Vouziers, had not had a moment's sleep. Since Maurice had explained to him that the retreat would save everything he had been on the look-out, preventing his men from leaving their quarters, and awaiting the orders for raising the camp which the officers might give at any moment. At about two o'clock a great clatter of horses' hoofs resounded amid the dense obscurity, which the camp fires dotted as with ruddy stars. This was an advance guard of cavalry setting out towards Ballay and Quatre-Champs, for the purpose of watching the Boult-aux-Bois and Croix-aux-Bois roads. An hour later the infantry and the artillery set themselves in motion, abandoning those positions of Falaise and Chestres, which during two long days they had seemed so obstinately bent on defending against an enemy who never came. The sky was overcast, and the night still deep, as each regiment retired in profound silence, like a procession of shadows flitting away into the darkness. Each heart, however, was beating joyously as though they had, one and all, escaped some threatening ambush. They already pictured themselves drawn up under the walls of Paris on the eve of the revanche.

Jean looked around him through the dense night. The road was edged with trees, and it seemed to him that it lay between large meadows. Then came rising ground and then declivities, and they were reaching a village—no doubt Ballay—when a heavy cloud, darkening the sky, suddenly burst, and the rain came down with violence. So much had already fallen on the men, however, that they no longer complained, but simply distended their shoulders. Ballay was speedily left behind; and, as they drew nearer to Quatre-Champs, furious squalls of wind swept through the widening valley. When they had passed Quatre-Champs, and had reached the vast plateau whose barren lands stretch as far as Noirval, the hurricane put forth all its strength, and they were lashed by a frightful deluge. And it was here that orders to halt stopped in turn every regiment.

The entire Seventh Corps, thirty and odd thousand men, had been gathered together here by the time the dawn arose, a dawn of a muddy hue seen through streaming grey water. What was up? Why were they halting? Disquietude was already spreading through the ranks, and some asserted that the marching orders had just been changed. The men had received instructions to ground their arms, and were forbidden to break the ranks and sit down. At certain moments the wind swept across the high table-land with such violence that they had to stand shoulder to shoulder to avoid being carried away. The icy rain was blinding them, pelting their faces and streaming through their clothes. And two hours went by, an interminable spell of waiting, the reason of which no one knew, though anguish was again oppressing every heart.

As the daylight gradually increased, Jean endeavoured to ascertain where they were. Some one had pointed out to him the road leading to Le Chêne which climbed a hill to the north-west, on the other side of Quatre-Champs. Why had they not taken it? Why had they wheeled to the right instead of to the left? Then he became interested in the doings of the staff, which was installed at the farm of La Converserie at the edge of the plateau. They all seemed very much upset there; the officers were running about gesticulating and discussing together; and nothing came—what could they be waiting for? The plateau was a kind of arena covered with stubble, overlooked on the north and the east by wooded heights; with dense woods extending on the south, whilst through an opening on the west the valley of the Aisne could be perceived, together with the little white houses of Vouziers. Below La Converserie rose the slated steeple of Quatre-Champs, drenched by the raging downpour, beneath which the few poor mossy roofs of the village seemed to be melting away. And as Jean's glance enfiladed the steep street he clearly distinguished a gig arriving at a fast trot, along the pebbly roadway now transformed into a torrent.

It was Maurice who, at a bend of the road, on the hill over yonder, had at last caught sight of the Seventh Corps. For a couple of hours he had been scouring the country, deceived by what a peasant had told him, and taken out of his way by the covert ill-will of the young fellow driving him, who was in quite a fever of fear lest they should meet the Prussians. As soon as Maurice reached the farm he sprang out of the vehicle and immediately joined his regiment.

'What! you here!' exclaimed Jean, quite stupefied. 'Why's that? We were going to call for you on the road.'

With a gesture Maurice expressed all his anger and his grief. 'Ah, yes! But the march is no longer that way; we are going over there to find our graves.'

'All right,' the corporal, turning quite pale, replied after an interval of silence. 'At least we shall get our heads cracked together.'

And, as they had parted, so did they meet again with an embrace. Under the beating downpour the private sought his place in the ranks, whilst the corporal, streaming with rain-water, set an example of stoicism by abstaining from all complaint.

The news, however, was now spreading. The rumour had become a certainty. They were no longer retreating upon Paris, but again marching upon the Meuse. One of the marshal's aides-de-camp had just brought the Seventh Corps orders to proceed to Nouart and encamp there, whilst the Fifth, advancing on Beauclair, was to form the right wing of the army, and the First was to make for Le Chêne, there to replace the Twelfth, now marching on La Besace, on the left. And if thirty and odd thousand men had been waiting on that plateau with arms grounded for nearly three hours and exposed to that furious hurricane, it was because General Douay, amid the lamentable confusion occasioned by this change of front, experienced intense disquietude as to the fate of the convoy which on the previous day he had sent forward to Chagny. It was necessary to wait until it joined the corps, and it was reported that it had been cut in two at Le Chêne by the Twelfth Corps' convoy. On the other hand, a portion of the matériel—including all the field smithies—having taken the wrong direction, was now returning from Terron by the road to Vouziers, where it would certainly fall into the hands of the Germans. Never was there greater disorder, never was anxiety more keen.

Perfect despair now displayed itself among the soldiers. Many of them wished to sit down on their knapsacks in the mud of that soaked plateau, there to await death amid the rain. They jeered, and insulted their commanders: Fine commanders they were, with no brains, who undid in the evening what they had done in the morning, who dawdled when the enemy was nowhere near, and skedaddled as soon as he appeared! A final attack of demoralisation was turning this army into a mere flock, without either faith, confidence, or discipline—a flock to be led to the slaughter according to the chances of the road. Over yonder, towards Vouziers, a fusillade had just broken out—the rear-guard of the Seventh Corps and the advance guard of the German troops were exchanging shots; and for a minute or two, moreover, all eyes had been turned towards the valley of the Aisne, where a mass of dense, black, whirling smoke was rising against a clear patch of sky: the village of Falaise, fired by the Uhlans, was burning. Maurice and his comrades were enraged. So the Prussians were there now. For two whole days had the Seventh Corps waited to give them time to arrive, and now it was taking to its heels. Bitter anger mounted to the brains even of those whose capacity was most limited at the thought of the irreparable blunder that had been perpetrated, the idiotic delay at Vouziers, the trap into which they had fallen; the reconnoitring parties of the fourth German army amusing Bordas's brigade, and immobilising in turn every corps of the army of Châlons so as to allow the Crown Prince of Prussia time to hasten to the spot with the Third Army. And at this moment the enemy's forces were joining hands, thanks to the ignorance of the marshal, who as yet did not know what troops he had before him; and the Seventh and Fifth Corps were about to be harassed without respite, threatened incessantly with a crowning disaster.

Maurice gazed at Falaise whilst it continued burning on the horizon. Just then, however, some solace was afforded by the arrival of the convoy, thought to be lost, but which was seen debouching from the road to Le Chêne. Thereupon, whilst the First Division remained at Quatre-Champs to escort and protect the interminable baggage-train, the Second at once set out for Boult-aux-Bois through the forest, whilst the Third took up position on the heights of Belleville on the left, with the view of insuring communications. Just as the rain was increasing in violence, the 106th at last quitted the plateau, resuming once more that criminal march towards the Meuse—towards the Unknown; and at that same moment Maurice, in his mind's eye, again saw the Emperor's shadow flitting mournfully to and fro on old Madame Desroches' little curtains. Ah! the army of the forlorn hope, the army sent to perdition, despatched to certain annihilation for the purpose of saving a dynasty. March, march, without glancing behind, under the rain and through the mud—march to extermination!