THE HORRORS OF CAPTIVITY--STARVATION, MURDER, AND DISEASE
There was such a scramble whilst the column of prisoners was leaving
Torcy that Maurice was separated from Jean. And, run as he might
afterwards, he only lost himself the more. When he at last reached the
bridge thrown across the canal at the base of the peninsula of Iges, he
found himself among some Chasseurs d'Afrique and was unable to rejoin
his regiment.
The bridge was defended by a couple of guns pointed towards the
peninsula; and the Prussian staff had turned a private residence, just
beyond the canal, into a guard-house, where was stationed a commandant
appointed to receive and guard the prisoners. The formalities were of
a very summary description; the men arriving were simply counted like
sheep, just as they came along, but little attention being paid either
to the different uniforms or the different numbers; and the various
flocks having scrambled past began to encamp wheresoever the chances of
the road led them.
Maurice thought he might venture to apply to a Bavarian officer who sat
there, astride a chair, smoking: 'In which direction, sir, shall I find
the 106th of the Line?'
Was this officer an exception to the rule, and did he not understand
French? Or did he think it amusing to send a poor devil of a prisoner
astray? At all events he smiled, raised his hand and signed to Maurice
to go straight on.
Although Maurice belonged to that part of the country he had never
previously set foot on the peninsula, and he walked onward upon a
journey of discovery much as though he had been thrown by a squall upon
some far-away island. He at first skirted Glaire Tower, a handsome
estate on his left, whose little park, planted beside the Meuse, was
extremely charming. Then the road followed the river which flowed by
on the right hand, below steep and lofty banks. Little by little the
road sloped upwards, winding round the hillock in the centre of the
peninsula; and here were some old quarries, excavations towards which
strayed narrow pathways. Farther on stood a mill beside the water.
Then the road turned, and came back to the village of Iges, built on
a slope and connected with the opposite bank of the Meuse by a ferry
just in front of the spinning works of St. Albert. Finally patches of
cultivated ground and meadows were spread out--quite an expanse of
flat, treeless land, limited by the rounded loop of the river. In vain
did Maurice scan the undulating hill slope: he could only see some
artillery and cavalry taking up their quarters there. Thereupon he
again made inquiries, applying to a corporal of Chasseurs d'Afrique,
who, however, could tell him nothing. Night was gathering and, feeling
weary, he sat down for a moment on a mile-stone.
Then, in the despair which all at once came over him, he perceived
across the Meuse those accursed fields where he had fought two days
before. In the waning light of that rainy day everything had a livid
hue--a dismal, mud-smeared vista was offered to his eyes. The defile
of St. Albert, the narrow road by which the Prussians had approached,
skirted the loop of the river as far as some whitish quarry pits.
The crests of the wood of La Falizette waved beyond the slopes of
the Seugnon hill; and almost in front of him, just a little on the
left, was St. Menges with its road sloping down to the ferry. In the
centre, just opposite, rose the Hattoy hill. Illy was far away in the
rear. Fleigneux nestled behind a bend of the ground; whilst Floing was
nearer in, on the right hand. He recognised the field in which he had
waited, for so many hours, lying among the cabbages; the plateau which
the reserve artillery had attempted to defend; and the crest where he
had seen Honoré expire, stretched upon his shattered gun. And all the
abomination of the disaster seemed to be coming to life again, filling
him with anguish and disgust till he felt sick at heart.
A fear lest he should be overtaken by the darkness induced him to
resume his search. Perhaps the 106th was camping on the low ground,
beyond the village. But he only found some prowlers there, and
accordingly resolved to make the circuit of the peninsula, following
the loop of the river. Whilst crossing a potato field he took the
precaution to tear up some of the plants and fill his pockets with
potatoes; they were not yet ripe, but he had nothing else to eat, for
it unluckily happened that Jean had taken charge of the two loaves
which Delaherche had given them when starting. What especially struck
Maurice was the large number of horses he met on the bare land sloping
gently, from the central hillock, to the Meuse in the direction of
Donchery. Why had all these animals been brought there? How were they
to be fed? Black night had fallen when he reached a little wood,
beside the water, where he was surprised to find the Cent-Gardes of
the Emperor's escort already installed, drying themselves around large
fires. These 'gentlemen,' who thus camped apart from the other troops,
had good tents, pots full of boiling _soupe_, and even a cow, tethered
to a tree. Maurice at once noticed that they gazed askance at him,
wretched-looking Linesman that he was, with his uniform in tatters and
covered with mud. Still they allowed him to cook his potatoes among
the ashes of one of their fires; after which, withdrawing to a tree
a hundred yards away, he sat himself down to eat. It was no longer
raining, the sky had cleared and the stars were shining very brightly
in the depths of the bluey darkness. He then reflected that it would be
best for him to spend the night there, and to resume his search in the
morning. Besides he was quite overcome with fatigue, and the tree would
always afford him some shelter should the rain begin falling again.
He did not manage to sleep, however, haunted as he was by thoughts of
that vast prison open to the night air, in which he realised he was
confined. The Prussians had displayed remarkable acumen in driving
thither the eighty thousand men who remained of the army of Châlons.
The peninsula was a league[37] or so in length, with a width of about
a mile, ample space in which to pen the immense disbanded flock of
vanquished soldiers. And Maurice clearly realised that water surrounded
them without a break, the loop of the Meuse winding round them on three
sides, whilst at the base of the peninsula was the derivational canal,
linking the two adjacent river-beds. At this point only was there an
outlet, the bridge guarded by a couple of cannon. And thus, despite
its extent, nothing would be easier than to guard this camp. He had
already noticed the German sentries, who had been posted in a cordon on
the opposite bank of the Meuse, near the water's edge, at intervals of
fifty yards or so, with orders to fire upon every man who might try to
escape by swimming across the river. Uhlans, moreover, galloped along
in the rear connecting the various pickets; and farther away, scattered
over the country-side, were the black lines of the Prussian regiments,
so that a triple living enceinte penned in the captive army.
At present, however, although insomnia kept his eyes wide open, Maurice
could only see the darkness, amid which the bivouac fires were being
lighted, together with the silhouettes of the motionless sentries,
ranged beyond the pale ribbon of the Meuse. These sentries stood there
erect and black in the starlight, and at regular intervals Maurice
heard their guttural call, a threatening watch-cry which died away,
afar off, amid the loud gushing of the river. As he heard those harsh
foreign syllables speeding along beneath a lovely starlit night of
France, all the nightmare of two days previously was born anew within
him; he once more seemed to behold all that he had again seen whilst
it was light an hour or so previously--that plateau of Illy still
strewn with slain, those accursed outskirts of Sedan, where a world
had crumbled away. Lying on the damp soil at the verge of the wood,
his head resting on the root of a tree, he again sank into the despair
which had taken possession of him on Delaherche's sofa the previous
morning; and that which now tortured him, increasing the anguish of his
pride, was the question of the morrow, a desire to measure the depth
of that great Downfall, to ascertain amid what ruins that world of
yesterday had sunk. Was that abominable war not over, as the Emperor
had surrendered his sword to King William? But he remembered what two
Bavarian soldiers had said whilst conducting him and his comrades to
Iges: 'We all in France, we all to Paris!' Amid his semi-somnolence
there came to him a sudden vision of what was happening--the Empire
swept away, carried off by universal execration; the Republic
proclaimed amidst an outburst of patriotic fever; the shadows of the
Legend of '92 arising, the soldiers of the _levée en masse_, the
armies of volunteers driving the invader from the soil of France. And
everything was intermingled in his poor, ailing head--the demands
of the victors; the harshness of the conquest; the obstinacy of the
vanquished, intent on resisting even to the last drop of their blood;
and the captivity reserved to those eighty thousand men, of whom he was
one, first on that peninsula, and then in the fortresses of Germany
during weeks, months, and perhaps years. Everything was splitting to
pieces--falling for evermore into the depths of limitless misfortune.
The call of the sentries, growing gradually louder and louder, burst
forth in front of him and then slowly died away, afar off. He had
awakened from a short doze, and was turning over on the hard ground
when the profound silence was suddenly rent by the report of a
firearm. Then a death-rattle sped through the black night, and there
came a sound of splashing water, the brief struggle of a body sinking
head-foremost in the stream. Some unlucky fellow had, no doubt, been
hit by a bullet in the chest, whilst attempting to escape by swimming
across the Meuse.
At sunrise on the morrow Maurice arose. The sky was clear, and he was
eager to join Jean and his comrades. For a moment he had an idea of
again scouring the interior of the peninsula, but on reflection he
resolved to complete his round. And just as he again reached the bank
of the canal, he perceived the remnants of the 106th, a thousand men
or so, encamped on the bank, which was screened only by a meagre row
of poplars. Had he turned to the left on the previous day instead of
going straight before him he would at once have overtaken his regiment.
Indeed, nearly all the infantry were heaped together here, along that
bank stretching from Glaire Tower to the château of Villette, another
country seat, surrounded by a few old houses, in the direction of
Donchery; and they were all bivouacking near the bridge, near the only
outlet, in that same instinctive desire for liberty which causes a
flock of sheep to press near the gate of the fold.
At sight of Maurice, Jean raised a cry of delight: 'Ah! here you are at
last! I fancied you were in the river.'
With the corporal were the remaining men of his squad, Pache and
Lapoulle, Loubet and Chouteau, who, after sleeping here and there
under the doorways of Sedan, had eventually been swept together by the
Prussian patrols. So far as their company was concerned, the corporal
was the only superior they had left them, for death had carried
away Sergeant Sapin, Lieutenant Rochas, and Captain Beaudoin; and
although the victors had abolished all distinctions of rank among the
prisoners, deciding that they henceforth owed obedience only to the
German officers, the four men had none the less drawn together around
Jean, knowing that he was prudent and experienced, a man to cling to
in difficult circumstances. And thus, that morning, in spite of the
stupidity of some and the ill will of others, concord and good humour
were paramount among the little party. To begin with, Jean had found
them a spot between two water furrows where the ground was almost dry;
and since they had only half a shelter tent left between them all, they
had here stretched themselves out to pass the night. Then, too, Jean
had just managed to procure some wood and a pot, in which Loubet had
made them some nice warm coffee, which had quite inspirited them. The
rain was no longer falling, the day seemed likely to be a very fine
one, and they still had a little biscuit and bacon left; moreover, as
Chouteau remarked, it was delightful to have no orders to obey, and to
be able to loaf about just as one chose. They were captives, no doubt,
but all the same there was plenty of room. Besides, in two or three
days' time they would be off on the road to Germany. And thus that
first day, September 4, which chanced to be a Sunday, proved a gay one.
Maurice, himself, in better spirits since he had joined his comrades,
experienced but little suffering, save such as was caused him by the
Prussian bands, which played throughout the afternoon on the other side
of the canal. There was psalm-singing in chorus towards the evening;
and, beyond the cordon of sentries, the German soldiers strolled to and
fro in little groups, slowly and loudly chanting in celebration of the
Sabbath.
'Oh, that music!' Maurice exclaimed at last in his exasperation. 'It
pierces me through and through.'
Jean, whose nerves were less susceptible, shrugged his shoulders:
'Well, they have good reason to be pleased. Besides, they perhaps think
that they are entertaining us. The day hasn't been an unpleasant one,
we mustn't grumble.'
At the fall of night, however, the rain came down again. It was a
perfect disaster. Some soldiers had taken possession of the few
abandoned houses on the peninsula. A few others had managed to set up
tents. But the greater number, lacking any kind of shelter, destitute
even of blankets, had to spend the night in the open air under the
torrential downpour. At about one in the morning, Maurice, who had
dozed off with fatigue, awoke, and found himself in a perfect lake.
The water furrows, swollen by the rain, had overflowed, submerging the
ground where he had stretched himself to sleep. Chouteau and Loubet
were swearing with rage, whilst Pache began shaking Lapoulle, who was
still sound asleep amid all this flood. Then Jean, bethinking himself
of the poplars planted alongside the canal, hastened to them for
shelter with his men, who, bending down, spent the remainder of that
frightful night with their backs against the trunks, and their legs
doubled under them to protect them from the big rain drops.
And the morrow and the following day proved really abominable; so heavy
and so frequent were the showers that the men's clothes never once had
time to dry. Famine was beginning, too; there was not a biscuit, not
a bit of bacon, not a grain of coffee left. During those two days,
the Monday and the Tuesday, they lived on potatoes stolen from the
neighbouring fields; and even these became so scarce at the close of
the second day that men with money bought them at the rate of five sous
apiece. It is true that bugles sounded to rations, and the corporal had
in all haste repaired to a large shed at Glaire Tower, where, so it was
rumoured, rations of bread were being distributed. But on the first
occasion he had waited there to no purpose for three hours, and on the
second he had had a quarrel with a Bavarian. The French officers being
unable to do anything to assist their men, in the powerless position
to which they were reduced, it really seemed as though the German
staff had herded the vanquished army together there in the rain with
the intention of starving it to death. No steps apparently were taken,
not an attempt was made to feed those eighty thousand men, whose agony
was now beginning in that frightful hell which was to acquire the name
of the Camp of Misery, a name of woe which in after times the bravest
could not recall without a shudder.
On returning from his long, useless waits before the shed, Jean, as a
rule so calm, flew into quite a passion. 'Are they playing the fool
with us, sounding to rations like that when there's nothing? I'm dashed
if I'll trouble to go there again.'
And yet at the first call he again hastened thither. These regulation
bugle-calls were positively inhuman, and they produced another result
which wrung Maurice's heart. Each time that the bugles sounded, the
abandoned French horses, at large on the other side of the canal,
galloped up and leaped into the water, as excited by those well-known
flourishes as by the prick of the spur. Exhausted by hunger, however,
they were mostly carried off by the current, few of them managing
to reach the bank of the peninsula. They could be seen struggling
lamentably, and so large a number of them was drowned that at last
their floating, inflated carcases obstructed the canal. As for those
that managed to land, they were seized with madness, as it were, and
galloped away across the waste fields.
'Some more meat for the crows!' said Maurice sorrowfully, remembering
the horses that he had already seen in such alarming numbers during the
first night of his captivity. 'If we remain here many days longer, we
shall all be eating one another. Ah! the poor animals.'
The Tuesday proved, indeed, terrible. Jean, who was getting seriously
anxious at Maurice's feverish condition, compelled the young fellow
to wrap himself in a shred of a blanket which he had purchased from
a Zouave for ten francs: whilst, for his own part, with his overcoat
soaked like a sponge, he remained all night exposed to the downpour to
which there was no cessation. The position under the poplars became
untenable, a river of mud was streaming along on all sides, and the
earth was so gorged, so saturated, that it now retained the water on
its surface in deep puddles. The worst was that the six men had their
stomachs empty, their evening meal having been limited to two beets,
which for lack of dry wood they had not even been able to cook. And the
sweetish roots, fresh though they were to the palate, had developed an
insupportable burning sensation in their stomachs. Moreover, dysentery
was now breaking out, caused by fatigue, bad living, and incessant
dampness. With his back to the trunk of the same tree as Maurice, and
with his legs quite under water, Jean stretched out his hand a dozen
times that night to make sure that the young fellow had not uncovered
himself in his agitated slumber. Since Maurice had saved him from the
Prussians, by carrying him in his arms across the plateau of Illy, the
corporal had been paying back his debt a hundredfold. Without reasoning
what he did, he freely gave himself to Maurice, entirely forgot himself
in his affection for him. It was an unmeasured, ever active attachment
on the part of this peasant, who was but slightly removed from the
soil, and could not even find words to express his feelings. For
Maurice, he had already taken food from his own mouth, as the men of
the squad expressed it; and now, had there been need of it, he would
have given him his skin as a covering, to protect his shoulders, and
warm his feet. And amid all the savage egotism that surrounded them,
amid the suffering of appetite, maddened by hunger, he was possibly
indebted to his self-abnegation for the unexpected advantage that he
reaped in retaining his quiet good-humour, and good health; for he
alone still gave proof of strength, and lost but little of his wits.
Thus it happened that, after that fearful night, he put into execution
an idea that had been haunting him. 'I say, youngster,' said he to
Maurice, 'as we get nothing given us to eat, and are being forgotten,
so it seems, in this cursed hole, we must bestir ourselves a bit, if we
don't want to die of hunger. Can you walk?'
The sun was fortunately shining again and had made Maurice feel quite
warm. 'Oh! yes, I can walk well enough,' said he.
'Then we'll go on a journey of discovery. We have some money, and we
shall have to be precious unlucky if we don't find something to buy.
And we mustn't burden ourselves with the others, they are not straight
enough, let them take care of themselves.'
He was, in fact, disgusted with the crafty egotism of Loubet and
Chouteau, who stole whatever they could lay their hands on and never
shared anything with their comrades. And in the same way there was
nothing to be done with either that brute Lapoulle or that black-beetle
Pache.
So Jean and Maurice went off by the road which the latter had already
followed, alongside the Meuse. The park and house of Glaire Tower were
already devastated and pillaged, the lawns ravined as by a storm,
the trees felled, and the buildings invaded. A crowd of ragged,
mud-splashed soldiers, with hollow cheeks and eyes that glittered with
fever, were camping there in gipsy fashion, living like wolves in the
filthy rooms, which they were afraid to leave lest they should lose
their places for the night. On the slopes farther on Jean and Maurice
passed through the cavalry and artillery, formerly so smart and jaunty,
but now sadly down-fallen, disorganised by the torture of hunger which
maddened the horses and scattered the men over the fields in plundering
bands. Outside the mill, on their right hand, they saw a procession of
artillerymen and Chasseurs d'Afrique slowly defiling along: the miller
was selling them flour at the rate of a franc for every two handfuls
which he emptied into their handkerchiefs. The fear, however, of having
to wait too long for any of this, induced Jean and Maurice to proceed
farther on; besides they hoped that they might find something better
in the village of Iges. And they were in consternation when they had
visited the hamlet and found it bare and desolate, just like some
Algerian village after a flight of locusts has fallen upon it. Not a
crumb remained there, neither bread, nor vegetables, nor meat; it was
as though the wretched houses had been scraped bare with the finger
nails. It appeared that General Lebrun had taken up his quarters at the
mayor's. To facilitate the provisioning of the troops he had vainly
endeavoured to organise a system of tickets, the value of which would
have been reimbursed by the State after the war; but no provisions were
obtainable, money was utterly useless. On the previous day a biscuit
had fetched two francs, a bottle of wine seven francs, a small liqueur
glass of brandy one franc,[38] and a pipeful of tobacco half a franc.
And now officers had to mount guard over the general's quarters and the
adjacent hovels, with drawn swords, for frequent bands of prowlers
burst open the cottage doors, stealing even the colza oil from the
lamps and drinking it!
Three Zouaves called to Maurice and Jean in the idea that if five of
them banded together they might bring some enterprise or other to
success. 'Come with us!' they cried. 'There are some horses kicking the
bucket, and if we could only get some dry wood----'
But Maurice and Jean did not go, and the Zouaves rushed upon a
peasant's house, broke open the cupboards and tore the thatch off the
roof. Some officers, however, came up at a run, threatening them with
their revolvers, and put them to flight.
Finding the few people who had remained at Iges as wretched and as
hungry as the soldiers themselves, Jean regretted that he had disdained
the flour at the mill: 'We must go back, perhaps there's still some
left,' said he.
Maurice, however, was growing so weary, so exhausted by hunger, that
Jean left him in a quarry hole, sitting on a rock in full view of the
far-spreading horizon of Sedan. For his own part, after a wait of
three-quarters of an hour he at last returned with a duster full of
flour. They could devise no other plan than to eat it as it was by
the handful. It wasn't nasty, in fact it had no smell and merely the
insipid taste of dough. This breakfast, though a poor one, revived them
somewhat. And they were even lucky enough to find on the rock a pool of
rain water, fairly clean, with which they quenched their thirst.
However, on Jean proposing that they should stay and spend the
afternoon there, Maurice made a violent gesture of refusal. 'No, no,
not here! It would make me ill if I had that long before my eyes.' So
saying, he pointed with his trembling hand to the immense horizon, the
Hattoy hill, the plateaux of Floing and Illy, the wood of La Garenne,
all those hateful fields of slaughter and defeat. 'Just now whilst
I was waiting for you,' he added, 'I had to turn my back on it all,
for I should have ended by howling with rage, yes, howling like an
exasperated dog. You can't imagine the pain it gives me, it drives me
mad!'
Jean gazed at him, astonished that his pride should bleed like that,
anxious too on again espying in his eyes that wild, mad look which he
had previously noticed in them. He thought it best to treat the matter
lightly: 'Well, we can easily settle all that,' said he, 'we'll go to
another part.'
Then they wandered about until evening, wheresoever the paths led
them, visiting the low ground of the peninsula in the hope that they
might still find some potatoes there. The artillerymen, however,
had appropriated the ploughs and turned up the fields, reaping and
gleaning and taking everything away. They thereupon retraced their
steps, and again passed through idle, agonising flocks of captives,
soldiers who were promenading their hunger, strewing the soil with
their numbed bodies, falling from sheer exhaustion by hundreds in the
broad sunlight. Not an hour went by but Jean and Maurice themselves
were overcome and had to sit down. Then all at once exasperation set
them on their feet again, and they once more began prowling round as
though spurred on by the instinct of the animal that seeks its food.
This agony seemed to have been lasting for months, yet the minutes were
rapidly flying by. In the fields in the direction of Donchery, they
were frightened by the wandering horses, and had to seek shelter behind
a wall, where they remained for a long time in an exhausted state,
gazing with dim eyes at those maddened animals tearing along against
the red background of the sunset.
As Maurice had foreseen, the thousands of horses which had been led
into captivity with the army, and could not be fed, proved a source of
daily increasing danger. They had first eaten the bark of the trees,
then they had attacked the trelliswork, the fences, all the planks
they came upon, and now they were becoming cannibals. They could be
seen throwing themselves upon one another and tearing off the hair of
each other's tails, chewing it furiously with foaming jaws. But it
was especially at night time that they became terrible, as though the
darkness oppressed them with a nightmare. They gathered together in
bands and rushed upon the few tents that had been pitched, attracted by
the straw there. In vain had the men lighted large fires to keep them
away; these fires only seemed to excite them the more. Their neighing
was so dolorous, so frightful at times that it seemed like the roaring
of wild beasts. Driven away, they returned yet more numerous and more
ferocious. And at every moment there sped through the darkness the long
cry of agony of some soldier gone astray whom they had knocked over and
crushed in their wild gallop.
The sun was still above the horizon when Jean and Maurice, on their way
back to the camping ground, were surprised to come upon the four men of
their squad, crouching in a ditch as though plotting some evil stroke.
Loubet at once called to them, and Chouteau proceeded to explain:
'It's about to-night's dinner,' said he. 'We shall all end by kicking
the bucket, we haven't had anything to eat for six-and-thirty hours.
But there are some horses, you know, and as horseflesh is by no means
bad----'
'Eh, you'll join us, corporal, won't you?' broke in Loubet, 'for with
such a big animal to handle, the more we are the better it will be.
Look! there's one over yonder whom we've been watching for an hour or
so--that big roan who seems ailing. It will be easier to finish him
off.'
So saying, he pointed to a horse which had just fallen from hunger
at the edge of a ravaged field of beets. Lying on its side, the
animal from time to time raised its poor head, breathing loudly and
mournfully, and gazing around with glassy eyes.
'Ah! what a time to wait!' growled Lapoulle, tortured by his voracious
appetite: 'I'll go and settle him, shall I?'
Loubet prevented him, however: No, thanks! They were not at all anxious
to have a row with the Prussians, who, under penalty of death, had
forbidden the prisoners to kill a single one of the horses, for fear
lest the abandoned carcase might foment a pestilence. It was necessary
to wait till night had closed in. And this was why they were all four
gathered in that ditch, watching with glittering eyes which did not
stir from the animal.
'I say, corporal,' suddenly asked Pache in a somewhat faltering voice,
'you are a man of ideas, couldn't you kill him without hurting him?'
With a gesture of revolt Jean declined the cruel task. Kill that poor,
agonising beast? No, no! His first impulse was to flee and carry
Maurice away with him, so that neither might take any part in that
frightful butchery. But at sight of his companion's pallor he scolded
himself for his sensibility. After all, animals were intended for the
food of man. A fellow ought not to let himself die of hunger when there
was meat available. And pleased to see that Maurice was some what
inspirited by the prospect of dining, he put on a good-humoured air and
answered: 'Well, no, I have no idea as to that, and if he's got to be
killed without being hurt----'
'Oh! I don't care a fig about that,' interrupted Lapoulle, I'll manage
it, you'll see.'
When Jean and Maurice had seated themselves in the ditch, the waiting
was resumed. From time to time one of the party rose up to make sure
that the horse was still on the same spot, stretching its neck towards
the fresh breezes from the Meuse, towards the setting sun, as though
to drink in the life that lingered there. Then, as the twilight slowly
fell, all six men rose up to continue their savage watch, impatient
for the laggard night, and glancing on all sides with wild anxiety to
ascertain if anyone were observing them.
'Ah! dash it!' suddenly exclaimed Chouteau, 'now's the time.'
The surrounding landscape was still broadly defined in the equivocal
owl's light which now prevailed. And Lapoulle ran up the first,
followed by the five others. He had picked up a large round stone in
the ditch, and he rushed upon the horse and began to batter its skull,
with his arms stiffly outstretched as though they had formed a club.
At the second blow, however, the horse made an attempt to get up.
Chouteau and Loubet, standing over its legs, were trying to hold them
down, and calling to the others to help them. The animal neighed in a
terrified, dolorous, almost human voice, struggled to rise, and would
have shattered them like glass had it not been already half dead of
starvation. Its head continued moving, and Lapoulle's blows missed
their aim, so that he was unable to despatch it.
'Curse it! how hard the brute's bones are! Hold him so that I can
settle him.'
Jean and Maurice, whose hearts were frozen, did not hear Chouteau
calling to them, but stood by with hanging arms, unable to make up
their minds to intervene. And, all at once, Pache dropped upon his
knees--in an instinctive impulse of religious pity--joined his hands,
and began stammering prayers such as are said at the bedside of the
dying.
Once more did Lapoulle miss his aim, merely tearing off one of the ears
of the wretched horse, which fell back, giving vent to a loud cry.
'Wait a bit,' growled Chouteau. 'We must settle him, or we shall be
caught. Don't let go, Loubet.'
He had just taken his knife from his pocket, a little knife, the blade
of which was not much longer than the finger. And, stretched upon the
animal's body, with one arm passed round its neck, he dug this blade
into the live flesh, and searched it, cutting and hacking, until he
had found and severed the artery. He had bounded aside when the blood
spurted forth, gushing as from a pipe, whilst the animal's feet stirred
feebly, and great convulsive shudders coursed over its skin. Nearly
five minutes elapsed before it was dead. Its large dilated eyes were
turned, with an expression of doleful fright, upon the haggard men who
were waiting for its death. At last they grew dim, and, all at once,
their light was extinguished. Pache was still upon his knees stammering
a prayer.
When the animal no longer stirred, they were greatly embarrassed as to
how they could cut a nice joint off it. Loubet, who had plied every
calling, certainly pointed out how they ought to proceed if they wanted
to secure the fillet; but it was dark, and having nothing but that
little knife, he proved a clumsy butcher, and fairly lost himself amid
all that warm flesh, still palpitating with life. And the impatient
Lapoulle, having decided to help him by opening the belly, when there
was no necessity to do so, the carnage became something abominable; all
was ferocious haste amid the spilt blood and strewn entrails; they were
like wolves raking the carcase of the prey with their fangs.
'I don't know what piece it can be,' at last said Loubet, rising up,
his arms laden with a huge chunk of meat. 'At any rate, there's enough
here to fill us up to our eyes.'
Overcome with horror, Jean and Maurice averted their heads. Hunger was
torturing them, however, and they followed the band when it galloped
away in dread lest it should be surprised near the slaughtered horse.
Chouteau, by the way, had just made a find--two large beets, which had
been overlooked in the field, and which he carried away. To disburden
his arms Loubet flung the meat upon Lapoulle's shoulders, whilst Pache
carried the squad's pot which they had been lugging about with them so
as to have it handy should their hunt be successful. And the six men
galloped and galloped along without drawing breath, as though they were
being pursued.
All at once, however, Loubet stopped his comrades. 'This is stupid; the
question is, where are we going to cook it?'
Jean, who was recovering his wits, suggested the quarries, which were
not more than three hundred yards away; in one or another of the
cavities there they could kindle a fire without being seen. When they
reached the spot, however, all sorts of difficulties arose. First
came the question of wood. Fortunately they discovered a roadmender's
barrow, the planks of which Lapoulle split with his heels. Then there
was no drinkable water. The little pools of rain-water had been dried
up by the sun during the afternoon. No doubt there was a pump, but it
was much too far away, at Glaire Tower; and besides, to get any water
from it you had to join a procession and wait for hours, and might deem
yourself fortunate if, just as your turn had come to fill your tin,
some comrade did not upset it with his elbow in the scramble. As for
the few wells in the neighbourhood, these had been dry for a couple
of days past, and the buckets only brought up so much mud. Thus the
only available water was that of the Meuse, the bank of which was just
across the road.
'I'll go there with the pot,' suggested Jean.
But the others protested. 'No, no, we don't want to be poisoned, the
river's full of corpses.'
This was true, large numbers of dead men and horses were drifting down
the Meuse. They passed by at every moment, inflated, green, already
mortifying. Many of them had caught in the herbage near the banks, and
remained there, poisoning the atmosphere, whilst the current stirred
them with a continuous quivering. And nearly all the soldiers who
had drunk of that abominable water had been seized with nausea and
dysentery, following upon frightful colics.
Still they had to resign themselves to it, Maurice explaining that it
would hardly be dangerous after being boiled. 'Then I'll go,' repeated
Jean, taking Lapoulle with him.
Black night had fallen by the time the pot, full of meat and water,
had been got on the fire. Loubet had peeled the beets to cook them
in the broth; ''twould make a ragout fit for the other world,' he
remarked. And they all of them urged on the flames, slipping the
remnants of the barrow under the pot, whilst their big shadows danced
about in a fantastic way in the depths of the rocky cavity. At last it
became impossible for them to wait any longer, they threw themselves
on the filthy broth and tore the meat to pieces with their trembling,
clutching fingers, too impatient even to use Chouteau's little knife.
But, despite all their efforts, their stomachs rose. It was the lack
of salt that caused them the most disgust; their stomachs refused to
retain that insipid, pappy beetroot, that half-cooked glutinous flesh
with an argillaceous flavour. They almost immediately began to vomit.
Pache could not go on eating, Chouteau and Loubet heaped insults on
that brute of a horse which they had had so much trouble to kill, and
which now made their stomachs ache. Lapoulle was the only one who dined
copiously; however, he almost died of it during the night, after he
had gone back with the three others to sleep under the poplars of the
canal.
On the way, Maurice, catching hold of Jean's arm, had, without
speaking, dragged him into a by-path. He felt furiously disgusted with
his comrades, and had formed the plan of sleeping in the little wood
where he had spent his first night on the peninsula. The idea was a
good one, and Jean strongly approved of it when he stretched himself in
the sloping soil, which he found quite dry, under the thick foliage.
They remained there till it was broad daylight, falling even into a
deep sleep which brought them back some strength.
The next day was Thursday, but they no longer knew how they were
living, they simply felt pleased at observing that the fine weather
seemed to have set in again. Despite Maurice's repugnance, Jean
prevailed on him to return to the canal bank to see if their regiment
would not leave the peninsula that morning. Every day now some of the
prisoners, columns a thousand and twelve hundred strong, were being
sent off to the German fortresses. A couple of days previously, in
front of the Prussian guard-house, Jean had seen a convoy of officers
and generals who were going to Pont-à-Mousson to take the train there.
A feverish, furious longing to get away from that frightful Camp of
Misery prevailed among one and all. Ah! if their own turn could only
have come, thought Maurice and the corporal; and they were quite in
despair when they found the 106th still encamped on the canal bank, in
the growing disorder caused by so much suffering.
That day, however, they thought they would succeed in getting something
to eat. Quite a trade had sprung up since the morning between the
prisoners and the Bavarians on the other side of the canal. Money
was flung to the latter in handkerchiefs, which were thrown back
wrapped round some coarse brown bread or common damp tobacco. Even the
prisoners who had no money managed to secure something by throwing
over their white regulation gloves, which seemed to have taken the
Bavarians' fancy. For a couple of hours this barbarous mode of exchange
was kept up all along the canal, across which packets were continually
flying. However, when Maurice flung over a five-franc piece, wrapped
in his necktie, the Bavarian who sent him a loaf in exchange threw it
in such a clumsy or tricky fashion that it fell flop into the water,
whereat the Germans burst into a loud guffaw. Twice did Maurice repeat
the experiment, and twice the loaf sent back to him dived into the
canal. On hearing the roars of laughter which arose, some Bavarian
officers ran up and prohibited their men from selling anything to the
prisoners under penalty of severe punishment. The traffic then ceased,
and Jean had to exert himself to calm Maurice, who was shaking his
fists at those thieves yonder, shouting to them to throw him back his
five-franc pieces.
In spite of its bright sunshine the day proved a terrible one. There
were two alerts, two bugle calls, on hearing which Jean hastened to
the shed, where rations were said to be distributed. But on both
occasions, he only secured some digs in the ribs, during the scramble.
The Prussians, so remarkably well organised themselves, continued
displaying a brutal indifference with regard to the vanquished army.
Generals Douay and Lebrun having protested against this inhuman
treatment, they certainly sent a few sheep and some cart-loads of
bread to the peninsula, but there was such an absence of method and
precaution that the sheep were carried off and the carts ransacked as
soon as they had crossed the bridge, so that the troops encamped more
than a hundred yards away were no better off than before. In fact,
the prowlers and pillagers were about the only ones who succeeded
in filling their maws. Jean scented the trick, and ended by leading
Maurice towards the bridge, so that they might wait and watch there for
the arrival of provisions.
It was already four o'clock and they had as yet eaten nothing that
lovely, sunshiny day, when all at once they were delighted to catch
sight of Delaherche. A few of the townspeople of Sedan had, with
great difficulty, obtained permission to go and see the prisoners, to
whom they carried provisions; and Maurice had several times already
expressed surprise at receiving no news of his sister. As soon as they
espied Delaherche, carrying a large basket and with a loaf of bread
tucked under either arm, they sprang forward to meet him, but once
again they came up too late. Such was the rush, indeed, that the basket
and one of the loaves vanished without the manufacturer himself being
able to understand how they had been torn away from him.
Eager as he was for popularity, he had crossed the bridge with a smile
on his lips and an air of affable good fellowship, but now he was
altogether upset and stupefied. 'Ah! my poor friends,' he stammered.
Jean had already taken possession of the remaining loaf, and
vigorously defended it; and whilst he and Maurice were devouring the
bread by the roadside, Delaherche told them the news. His wife, thank
Heaven! was very well; but he was anxious about the colonel, who
had become extremely depressed, although Madame Delaherche, senior,
continued keeping him company from morn till night.
'And my sister?' asked Maurice.
'Your sister, ah yes! She came with me, it was she who brought the two
loaves. Only she had to stay yonder, on the other side of the canal.
Beg as we might, the sentries would not let her pass. The Prussians,
you know, have given strict orders that women are not to be allowed on
the peninsula.'
Then he went on talking of Henriette and of her futile endeavours to
see her brother and assist him. One day, in the streets of Sedan,
chance had brought her face to face with cousin Gunther, the captain in
the Prussian Guards. He was passing along with that stern forbidding
air of his, pretending not to recognise her, and she herself, feeling
her heart rise as though she were in presence of one of her husband's
murderers, had at the first moment hastened her steps. Then in a sudden
veering which she could not account for, she had turned back after him,
and in a harsh, reproachful voice, had told him everything, especially
how her husband had been shot at Bazeilles. And on thus hearing of his
relative's frightful death, he had made but an ambiguous gesture; it
was the fortune of war, he also might have been killed. His soldier's
face barely twitched as he learnt the news. Then, when she spoke to him
of her brother who was a prisoner, begging that he would intervene so
that she might obtain permission to see him, he refused to do so. Such
intervention was not allowed, he said; the orders were strict; and he
spoke of his superior's orders as though they were Divine commandments.
On leaving him, Henriette clearly realised that he deemed himself a
justiciar, and was swayed by all the intolerance and arrogance of an
hereditary enemy, who had grown up hating the race which he was now
chastising.
'Well,' concluded Delaherche, 'at all events you will have had some
little to eat this evening. What worries me is that I fear I sha'n't be
able to get another permit to come here.'
He then asked them if they had any commissions, and obligingly took
charge of some letters, written in pencil, which other soldiers
confided to him, for the Bavarians had been seen laughing and lighting
their pipes with the missives which they had promised to forward.
Then, whilst Maurice and Jean were accompanying him back to the bridge,
he suddenly exclaimed: 'Look! there's Henriette yonder. Can't you see
her waving her handkerchief?'
Indeed, among the throng behind the line of sentinels, a thin little
face could be espied, a white speck, as it were, palpitating in the
sunlight. Greatly affected, with their eyes moist, both soldiers
immediately raised their arms and answered with an energetic wave of
the hand.
The morrow, a Friday, proved the most fearful day that Maurice had
spent on the peninsula. True enough, after passing another quiet night
in the little wood, he had been lucky enough to get some bread to
eat; Jean having discovered an old woman at the château of Villette
who had some for sale, at the moderate price of ten francs the pound.
Later on that day, however, they both witnessed a frightful scene, the
nightmare-like memory of which long haunted them.
Chouteau had noticed the previous evening that Pache no longer
complained, but was going about with a lightsome, contented air, like
a man who has eaten his fill. The idea at once occurred to him that
the slyboots must have a hidden store somewhere; and he was confirmed
in this impression in the morning when he saw Pache go off for nearly
an hour, and come back smiling slyly, with his mouth still full. Some
windfall must certainly have come to him; he had probably got hold of
some provisions or other in one of the scrambles. Thereupon Chouteau
set himself the task of stirring up Loubet and Lapoulle, especially the
latter. 'Ah!' said he, 'what a dirty cur that fellow Pache must be, to
have some grub and not to share it with his comrades. I'll tell you
what, we'll follow him this evening. We'll just see if he'll dare to
gorge himself all alone, when other poor devils are kicking the bucket
all round him.'
'Yes, yes, we'll follow him!' Lapoulle angrily repeated. 'We'll just
see what it means.'
So saying, the colossus clenched his fists, maddened by the idea of
getting something to eat. He experienced even greater suffering than
the others, on account of his terrible appetite; indeed, his torment
became at times so intense that he had even tried to chew the grass. He
had secured nothing else to eat since two days previously, since the
night, in fact, when the horseflesh and beetroot had given him such a
frightful attack of dysentery. Despite his great strength, he was so
clumsy with his big limbs that he had not been able to secure anything
when the provision carts were pillaged. He would now have given his
blood for a pound of bread.
When night was falling Pache glided away among the trees of Glaire
Tower, and the three others cautiously crept after him. 'We mustn't
rouse his suspicions,' repeated Chouteau. 'Be careful, he might look
back.'
However, after going another hundred yards or so, Pache evidently
fancied himself alone, for he began walking rapidly without casting
a glance behind. They were thus easily able to follow him to the
neighbouring quarries, and came up behind him just as he was moving two
large stones to take a half loaf of bread from under them. This was all
that remained of his hoard, just enough to make one more meal.
'You dirty black-beetle!' shouted Lapoulle. 'So that's why you hide
yourself, is it? You'll just give me that. It's my share.'
Give his bread, indeed! Why should he give it? However puny he might
be, his anger made him draw himself erect, pressing the bread to his
heart with all the strength he possessed. He, also, was hungry. 'Mind
your own business!' he answered, 'it's mine!'
Then, at sight of Lapoulle's raised fist, he darted away, galloping
down from the quarries towards the bare fields in the direction of
Donchery. The three others pursued him, panting, as fast as their legs
could carry them. He gained ground, however, being lighter than they
were, so frightened too, and so bent on not losing his bread, that
it seemed as though the wind were carrying him away. He had already
gone more than a thousand yards, and was nearing the little wood on
the river bank, when he overtook Jean and Maurice, who were returning
to their night quarters there. As he rushed by he raised a cry of
distress, whilst they, astounded at sight of this man-hunt so wildly
galloping past them, stopped short at the edge of a field, where they
remained watching. And thus it was that they saw everything.
Stumbling against a stone, Pache unhappily fell to the ground. The
three others were already coming up, swearing and howling, maddened by
their run, like wolves overtaking their prey.
'Give it me, thunder!' shouted Lapoulle, 'or I'll settle your hash!'
And he was again raising his fist when Chouteau, after opening the
little knife that had served to slaughter the horse, passed it to him,
exclaiming: 'Here! take the knife.'
Meantime, however, Jean had darted forward to prevent an affray.
He also was losing his head, and talked of sending them all to the
guard-room; whereat Loubet, with an evil grin, told him he must be a
Prussian, for there were no officers left, so to say, the Prussians
alone now exercising authority.
'D----!' repeated Lapoulle, 'will you give me that bread?'
Despite the terror that blanched his face, Pache hugged the bread yet
more closely to his chest, with the obstinacy of a famished peasant,
who will never part with anything belonging to him.
'No!'
Then in a trice it was all over; the brute planted the knife in his
throat with such violence that he did not even raise a cry. His arms
relaxed, and the hunk of bread rolled to the ground, into the blood
that had spurted from the wound.
At sight of this mad, imbecile murder, Maurice, hitherto motionless,
seemed all at once to lose his reason. Shaking his fists at the three
men, he called them assassins with such vehemence that his frame shook
from head to foot. Lapoulle, however, did not even seem to hear him.
Still crouching on the ground near the corpse, he was devouring the
blood-splashed bread with an air of fierce stupor, as though stunned by
the loud noise of his own jaws; and he appeared so terrible whilst he
thus satisfied his craving appetite, that Chouteau and Loubet did not
even dare to ask him for their share.
Night had now completely gathered in, a clear night with a beautiful
starry sky; and Maurice and Jean, who had betaken themselves to the
little wood, were soon only able to see Lapoulle, who went wandering up
and down the river-bank. Chouteau and Loubet had disappeared, they had
no doubt gone back to the canal-bank, uneasy with regard to that corpse
which they were leaving behind them. Lapoulle, on the contrary, seemed
afraid to go and join his comrades. Oppressed by the weight of that
big chunk of bread which he had swallowed too fast, he was now, too,
after the dizziness of the murder-moment, seized with an anguish which
made motion a necessity; and not daring to turn back along the road,
across which the corpse was lying, he tramped incessantly along the
steep river-bank, with a wavering, irresolute step. Was remorse already
dawning in the depths of that dark soul? Or was it not simply the fear
of discovery? He paced up and down like a wild beast before the bars
of its cage, with a sudden, growing longing to flee, a longing which
was painful like a physical ailment, and which he felt would cause his
death if he did not satisfy it. Quick, quick, he must at once get out
of that prison where he had killed. And yet, despite that eager desire,
he all at once sank down, and for a long time remained wallowing among
the rushes on the bank.
Meantime Maurice, in his horror and disgust, was saying to Jean:
'Listen, I can't stay here a moment longer. It will drive me mad, I
assure you--I'm astonished that my body has held out--my health is not
so bad--but I'm losing my head, I'm losing it sure enough--I shall
be lost if you leave me another day in this hell. Let's get off, I
beg of you, let's get off.' And thereupon he began unfolding various
extravagant plans of escape which he had formed. They would swim across
the Meuse, spring upon the sentinels, and strangle them with a bit
of rope which he had in his pocket; or else they would stone them to
death; or else bribe them and put on their uniforms so as to make their
way through the Prussian lines.
'Be quiet, youngster,' repeated Jean, despairingly. 'It frightens me to
hear you say such foolish things. Is there any sense in it all, is it
possible to get away as you think? Wait till to-morrow, we'll see what
happens. And now don't talk about it any more.'
For his own part, although his heart was overflowing with anger and
disgust, although he was greatly weakened by privation, he still
retained his common sense amid all that nightmare-kind of life which
verged on the profoundest depths of human misery. And as his comrade
became more and more desperate and wished to fling himself into the
Meuse, he had to hold him back and even do him violence, alternately
scolding and supplicating, with tears standing in his eyes. 'There!
look!' he exclaimed all at once.
The water had just splashed, and they saw that Lapoulle had made up his
mind to slip into the river after doffing his capote, for fear lest
it might impede his movements. His shirt could be plainly descried,
forming a whitish spot on the bosom of the black, flowing water. He was
swimming slowly upstream, doubtless on the look-out for some spot where
he might land. Meantime, on the opposite bank, the slim silhouettes
of the motionless sentinels could be plainly distinguished. Then,
all at once, a flash rent the night asunder, and a report crackled,
re-echoing as far as the rocks of Montimont. The river merely bubbled
as though struck downward by a pair of oars, and that was all; forsaken
and inert, Lapoulle's body, the white speck on the dark water, began
floating away, carried along by the current.
At daybreak on the morrow, which was Saturday, Jean again brought
Maurice back to the camping-ground of the 106th in the hope that they
might be leaving the peninsula that day. But there were no orders; it
seemed as though the regiment had been forgotten. Many had now taken
their departure, the camp was emptying, and those who were still left
in it sank more and more deeply into the blues. For eight long days
insanity had been germinating and spreading in that hell. The rain, no
doubt, had given over, but the oppressive, burning sunlight had only
wrought a change of torture. The excessive heat put the finishing touch
to the men's exhaustion, and imparted an alarming epidemical character
to the attacks of dysentery. What with nausea and diarrhœa, this army
of sick men quite poisoned the atmosphere in which it lived. It was no
longer possible to skirt the banks either of the Meuse or the canal, so
foul had become the stench of the drowned horses and soldiers rotting
among the herbage. Moreover, the horses which had died of starvation
lay putrefying in the fields, exhaling such a pestilence that the
Prussians began to fear for themselves, and bringing picks and shovels,
compelled the prisoners to bury the bodies.
That Saturday, by the way, the famine ceased. As their numbers were
now greatly reduced, and provisions were coming in from all sides, the
captives passed, all at once, from extreme destitution to the most
abundant plenty. There was no lack of bread or meat, or even wine, and
they ate from dawn till sunset, to the point of killing themselves.
Night fell and some were still eating, and even went on eating till the
following morning. And naturally enough many of them gave up the ghost.
Throughout the day Jean's one preoccupation was to keep a watch on
Maurice, for he realised that the young fellow was now ripe for any
extravagant action. Heated by wine he had even talked of cuffing a
German officer in order that he might be sent away. Accordingly, in the
evening, having discovered a vacant corner in the cellar of one of the
outbuildings of Glaire Tower, Jean thought it prudent to go and sleep
there with his companion, in the hope that the latter would be calmed
by a good night's rest. But it proved the most fearful night of their
whole sojourn in the camp, a perfect night of horrors, during which
they were not once able to close their eyes. Other soldiers helped to
fill the cellar, and among them were two men lying side by side in the
same corner, and dying of dysentery. As soon as the darkness had come,
these two did not cease complaining, with hollow groans, inarticulate
cries, followed at last by a death-rattle which became louder and
louder, sounding so awful in the pitchy darkness that the other men who
were lying there, longing to sleep, became quite enraged, and called to
the dying soldiers to hold their peace. But the latter did not hear,
and the rattle went on, ceasing for a moment perhaps every now and
then, but suddenly breaking forth anew, and then drowning every other
sound; whilst, in the intervals, the drunken clamour of the comrades
who were still eating, unable to satisfy themselves, was wafted from
without.
Then Maurice's agony began. He had tried to flee from that plaint of
atrocious pain, which brought the sweat of anguish to his brow; but
whilst he was rising and fumbling he stumbled over some outstretched
limbs and fell to the ground again, walled up, as it were, with those
dying men. And he made no further attempt to escape. A vision of the
whole frightful disaster was rising up before him, from the time of
their departure from Rheims to the crushing blow of Sedan. It seemed
to him also as though the passion of the Army of Châlons were only
that night coming to an end, amid the inky blackness of that cellar,
resounding with the death-rattle of those two soldiers who prevented
their comrades from sleeping. The army of despair, the expiatory
flock, offered up as a holocaust, had, at each of its Stations,[39]
paid for the faults of all with the red flood of its blood. And, now,
ingloriously slaughtered and beslavered, it was sinking to martyrdom
beneath a more brutal chastisement than it had deserved. 'Twas too
much, Maurice was boiling over with anger, hungering for justice,
burning to avenge himself on Destiny.
When the morning twilight appeared one of the two soldiers was dead,
but the other's throat was still rattling.
'Come on, youngster,' said Jean, gently; 'we'll go and get some fresh
air, that will be best.'
Strolling along in the pure morning air, which was already warm, they
skirted the steep river-bank till they again found themselves near the
village of Iges. And then Maurice suddenly became more excited than
ever, shaking his fist at the far-spreading, sunlit horizon of the
battlefield, which was spread out before him, the plateau of Illy just
opposite, St. Menges on his left, and the wood of La Garenne on his
right hand.
'No, no!' he cried. 'I cannot--I cannot bear the sight of all that any
longer! It pierces my heart and drives me mad! Take me away, take me
away at once!'
That day was again a Sunday; the pealing of church bells was wafted
from Sedan, and a German regimental band could already be heard playing
in the distance. However, there were still no orders for the 106th,
and, frightened by Maurice's growing delirium, Jean made up his mind
to try a plan which he had been nursing since the previous day. On
the road, in front of the German guard-house, preparations were being
made for the departure of another regiment, the 5th of the Line. Great
confusion prevailed in the column, which an officer, who spoke very
indifferent French, could not succeed in counting. And thereupon Jean
and Maurice, having torn off both the collars and buttons of their
uniforms, in order that the number of their regiment might not betray
them, slipped into the midst of the throng, crossed the bridge, and
thus at last found themselves on the road. The same idea must have
occurred to Chouteau and Loubet, whom they espied behind them, glancing
nervously on either side, like the murderers they were.
Ah! how great was the relief of those first happy moments! Now that
they were outside their prison, it seemed like a resurrection, a return
to living light and boundless air, the flowery awakening of every hope.
And whatever might be their misfortunes now, they feared them not, they
could afford to laugh at them, for had they not emerged unscathed from
the frightful nightmare of the Camp of Misery?