"I simply wished," he continued, "to give you news of ourselves, and to
beg you to come as soon as possible and make us happy. And here I am
weeping and gossiping like an old child. Hope, my poor Jean, I pray, and
God is good.
"Answer me quickly, and give me, if possible, the date of your return.
Babet and I are counting the weeks. We trust to see you soon; be hopeful."
The date of my return!--I kissed the letter, sobbing, and fancied for a
moment that I was kissing Babet and my uncle. No doubt I should never see
them again. I would die like a dog in the dust, beneath the leaden sun.
And it was on that desolated plain, amidst the death-rattle of the dying,
that those whom I loved dearly were saying good-bye. A buzzing silence
filled my ears; I gazed at the pale earth spotted with blood, which
extended, deserted, to the grey lines of the horizon. I repeated: "I must
die." Then, I closed my eyes, and thought of Babet and my uncle Lazare.
I know not how long I remained in a sort of painful drowsiness. My heart
suffered as much as my flesh. Warm tears ran slowly down my cheeks. Amidst
the nightmare that accompanied the fever, I heard a moan similar to the
continuous plaintive cry of a child in suffering. At times, I awoke and
stared at the sky in astonishment.
At last I understood that it was M. de Montrevert, lying a few paces off,
who was moaning in this manner. I had thought him dead. He was stretched
out with his face to the ground and his arms extended. This man had been
good to me; I said to myself that I could not allow him to die thus, with
his face to the ground, and I began crawling slowly towards him.
Two corpses separated us. For a moment I thought of passing over the
stomachs of these dead men to shorten the distance; for, my shoulder made
me suffer frightfully at every movement. But I did not dare. I proceeded
on my knees, assisting myself with one hand. When I reached the colonel, I
gave a sigh of relief; it seemed to me that I was less alone; we would die
together, and this death shared by both of us no longer terrified me.
I wanted him to see the sun, and I turned him over as gently as possible.
When the rays fell upon his face, he breathed hard; he opened his eyes.
Leaning over his body, I tried to smile at him. He closed his eyelids
again; I understood by his trembling lips that he was conscious of his
sufferings.
"It's you, Gourdon," he said to me at last, in a feeble voice; "is the
battle won?"
"I think so, colonel," I answered him.
There was a moment of silence. Then, opening his eyes and looking at me,
he inquired--
"Where are you wounded?"
"In the shoulder--and you, colonel?"
"My elbow must be smashed. I remember; it was the same bullet that
arranged us both like this, my boy."
He made an effort to sit up.
"But come," he said with sudden gaiety, "we are not going to sleep here?"
You cannot believe how much this courageous display of joviality
contributed towards giving me strength and hope. I felt quite different
since we were two to struggle against death.
"Wait," I exclaimed, "I will bandage up your arm with my handkerchief, and
we will try and support one another as far as the nearest ambulance."
"That's it, my boy. Don't make it too tight. Now, let us take each other
by the good hand and try to get up."
We rose staggering. We had lost a great deal of blood; our heads were
swimming and our legs failed us. Any one would have mistaken us for
drunkards, stumbling, supporting, pushing one another, and making zigzags
to avoid the dead. The sun was setting with a rosy blush, and our gigantic
shadows danced in a strange way over the field of battle. It was the end
of a fine day.
The colonel joked; his lips were crisped by shudders, his laughter
resembled sobs. I could see that we were going to fall down in some corner
never to rise again. At times we were seized with giddiness, and were
obliged to stop and close our eyes. The ambulances formed small grey
patches on the dark ground at the extremity of the plain.
We knocked up against a large stone, and were thrown down one on the
other. The colonel swore like a pagan. We tried to walk on all-fours,
catching hold of the briars. In this way we did a hundred yards on our
knees. But our knees were bleeding.
"I have had enough of it," said the colonel, lying down; "they may come
and fetch me if they will. Let us sleep."
I still had the strength to sit half up, and shout with all the breath
that remained within me. Men were passing along in the distance picking up
the wounded; they ran to us and placed us side by side on a stretcher.
"Comrade," the colonel said to me during the journey, "Death will not have
us. I owe you my life; I will pay my debt, whenever you have need of me.
Give me your hand."
I placed my hand in his, and it was thus that we reached the ambulances.
They had lighted torches; the surgeons were cutting and sawing, amidst
frightful yells; a sickly smell came from the blood-stained linen, whilst
the torches cast dark rosy flakes into the basins.
The colonel bore the amputation of his arm with courage; I only saw his
lips turn pale and a film come over his eyes. When it was my turn, a
surgeon examined my shoulder.
"A shell did that for you," he said; "an inch lower and your shoulder
would have been carried away. The flesh, only, has suffered."
And when I asked the assistant, who was dressing my wound, whether it was
serious, he answered me with a laugh:
"Serious! you will have to keep to your bed for three weeks, and make new
blood."
I turned my face to the wall, not wishing to show my tears. And with my
heart's eyes I perceived Babet and my uncle Lazare stretching out their
arms towards me. I had finished with the sanguinary struggles of my summer
day.