"Sergeant Chatelain is afraid of no one, Lieutenant. He has been at
Abomey, against the Amazons, in a country where a black arm started
out from every bush to seize your leg, while another cut it off for
you with one blow of a cutlass."
"Then what they say, what you yourself--"
"That is talk."
"Talk which is repeated in France, Chatelain, everywhere."
He bent his head still lower without replying.
"Ass," I burst out, "will you speak?"
"Lieutenant, Lieutenant," he fairly pled, "I swear that what I know,
or nothing--"
"What you know you are going to tell me, and right away. If not, I
give you my word of honor that, for a month, I shall not speak to you
except on official business."
Hassi-Inifel: thirty native Arabs and four Europeans--myself, the
Sergeant, a Corporal, and Gourrut. The threat was terrible. It had its
effect.
"All right, then, Lieutenant," he said with a great sigh. "But
afterwards you must not blame me for having told you things about a
superior which should not be told and come only from the talk I
overheard at mess."
"Tell away."
"It was in 1899. I was then Mess Sergeant at Sfax, with the 4th
Spahis. I had a good record, and besides, as I did not drink, the
Adjutant had assigned me to the officers' mess. It was a soft berth.
The marketing, the accounts, recording the library books which were
borrowed (there weren't many), and the key of the wine cupboard,--for
with that you can't trust orderlies. The Colonel was young and dined
at mess. One evening he came in late, looking perturbed, and, as soon
as he was seated, called for silence:
"'Gentlemen,' he said, 'I have a communication to make to you, and I
shall ask for your advice. Here is the question. Tomorrow morning the
_City of Naples_ lands at Sfax. Aboard her is Captain de Saint-Avit,
recently assigned to Feriana, en route to his post.'
"The Colonel paused. 'Good,' thought I, 'tomorrow's menu is about to
be considered.' For you know the custom, Lieutenant, which has existed
ever since there have been any officers' clubs in Africa. When an
officer is passing by, his comrades go to meet him at the boat and
invite him to remain with them for the length of his stay in port. He
pays his score in news from home. On such occasions everything is of
the best, even for a simple lieutenant. At Sfax an officer on a visit
meant--one extra course, vintage wine and old liqueurs.
"But this time I imagined from the looks the officers exchanged that
perhaps the old stock would stay undisturbed in its cupboard.
"'You have all, I think, heard of Captain de Saint-Avit, gentlemen,
and the rumors about him. It is not for us to inquire into them, and
the promotion he has had, his decoration if you will, permits us to
hope that they are without foundation. But between not suspecting an
officer of being a criminal, and receiving him at our table as a
comrade, there is a gulf that we are not obliged to bridge. That is
the matter on which I ask your advice.'
"There was silence. The officers looked at each other, all of them
suddenly quite grave, even to the merriest of the second lieutenants.
In the corner, where I realized that they had forgotten me, I tried
not to make the least sound that might recall my presence.
"'We thank you, Colonel,' one of the majors finally replied, 'for your
courtesy in consulting us. All my comrades, I imagine, know to what
terrible rumors you refer. If I may venture to say so, in Paris at the
Army Geographical Service, where I was before coming here, most of the
officers of the highest standing had an opinion on this unfortunate
matter which they avoided stating, but which cast no glory upon
Captain de Saint-Avit.'
"'I was at Bammako, at the time of the Morhange-Saint-Avit mission,'
said a Captain. 'The opinion of the officers there, I am sorry to say,
differed very little from what the Major describes. But I must add
that they all admitted that they had nothing but suspicions to go on.
And suspicions are certainly not enough considering the atrocity of
the affair.'
"'They are quite enough, gentlemen,' replied the Colonel, 'to account
for our hesitation. It is not a question of passing judgment; but no
man can sit at our table as a matter of right. It is a privilege based
on fraternal esteem. The only question is whether it is your decision
to accord it to Saint-Avit.'
"So saying, he looked at the officers, as if he were taking a roll
call. One after another they shook their heads.
"'I see that we agree,' he said. 'But our task is unfortunately not
yet over. The _City of Naples_ will be in port tomorrow morning. The
launch which meets the passengers leaves at eight o'clock. It will be
necessary, gentlemen, for one of you to go aboard. Captain de
Saint-Avit might be expecting to come to us. We certainly have no
intention of inflicting upon him the humiliation of refusing him, if
he presented himself in expectation of the customary reception. He
must be prevented from coming. It will be wisest to make him
understand that it is best for him to stay aboard.'
"The Colonel looked at the officers again. They could not but agree.
But how uncomfortable each one looked!
"'I cannot hope to find a volunteer among you for this kind of
mission, so I am compelled to appoint some one. Captain Grandjean,
Captain de Saint-Avit is also a Captain. It is fitting that it be an
officer of his own rank who carries him our message. Besides, you are
the latest comer here. Therefore it is to you that I entrust this
painful interview. I do not need to suggest that you conduct it as
diplomatically as possible.'
"Captain Grandjean bowed, while a sigh of relief escaped from all the
others. As long as the Colonel stayed in the room Grandjean remained
apart, without speaking. It was only after the chief had departed that
he let fall the words: "'There are some things that ought to count a
good deal for promotion.'
"The next day at luncheon everyone was impatient for his return.
"'Well?' demanded the Colonel, briefly.
"Captain Grandjean did not reply immediately. He sat down at the table
where his comrades were mixing their drinks, and he, a man notorious
for sobriety, drank almost at a gulp, without waiting for the sugar to
melt, a full glass of absinthe.
"'Well, Captain?' repeated the Colonel.
"'Well, Colonel, it's done. You can be at ease. He will not set foot on
shore. But, ye gods, what an ordeal!'
"The officers did not dare speak. Only their looks expressed their
anxious curiosity.
"Captain Grandjean poured himself a swallow of water.
"'You see, I had gotten my speech all ready, in the launch. But as I
went up the ladder I knew that I had forgotten it. Saint-Avit was in
the smoking-room, with the Captain of the boat. It seemed to me that I
could never find the strength to tell him, when I saw him all ready to
go ashore. He was in full dress uniform, his sabre lay on the bench
and he was wearing spurs. No one wears spurs on shipboard. I presented
myself and we exchanged several remarks, but I must have seemed
somewhat strained for from the first moment I knew that he sensed
something. Under some pretext he left the Captain, and led me aft near
the great rudder wheel. There, I dared speak. Colonel, what did I say?
How I must have stammered! He did not look at me. Leaning his elbows
on the railing he let his eyes wander far off, smiling slightly. Then,
of a sudden, when I was well tangled up in explanations, he looked at
me coolly and said:
"'I must thank you, my dear fellow, for having given yourself so much
trouble. But it is quite unnecessary. I am out of sorts and have no
intention of going ashore. At least, I have the pleasure of having
made your acquaintance. Since I cannot profit by your hospitality, you
must do me the favor of accepting mine as long as the launch stays by
the vessel.'
"Then we went back to the smoking-room. He himself mixed the
cocktails. He talked to me. We discovered that we had mutual
acquaintances. Never shall I forget that face, that ironic and distant
look, that sad and melodious voice. Ah! Colonel, gentlemen, I don't
know what they may say at the Geographic Office, or in the posts of
the Soudan.... There can be nothing in it but a horrible suspicion.
Such a man, capable of such a crime,--believe me, it is not possible.
"That is all, Lieutenant," finished Chatelain, after a silence. "I
have never seen a sadder meal than that one. The officers hurried
through lunch without a word being spoken, in an atmosphere of
depression against which no one tried to struggle. And in this
complete silence, you could see them always furtively watching the
_City of Naples_, where she was dancing merrily in the breeze, a
league from shore.
"She was still there in the evening when they assembled for dinner,
and it was not until a blast of the whistle, followed by curls of
smoke escaping from the red and black smokestack had announced the
departure of the vessel for Gabes, that conversation was resumed; and
even then, less gaily than usual.
"After that, Lieutenant, at the Officers' Club at Sfax, they avoided
like the plague any subject which risked leading the conversation back
to Captain de Saint-Avit."
Chatelain had spoken almost in a whisper, and the little people of the
desert had not heard this singular history. It was an hour since we
had fired our last cartridge. Around the pool the turtle doves, once
more reassured, were bathing their feathers. Mysterious great birds
were flying under the darkening palm trees. A less warm wind rocked
the trembling black palm branches. We had laid aside our helmets so
that our temples could welcome the touch of the feeble breeze.
"Chatelain," I said, "it is time to go back to the bordj."
Slowly we picked up the dead doves. I felt the Sergeant looking at me
reproachfully, as if regretting that he had spoken. Yet during all the
time that our return trip lasted, I could not find the strength to
break our desolate silence with a single word.
The night had almost fallen when we arrived. The flag which
surmounted the post was still visible, drooping on its standard, but
already its colors were indistinguishable. To the west the sun had
disappeared behind the dunes gashed against the black violet of the
sky.
When we had crossed the gate of the fortifications, Chatelain left me.
"I am going to the stables," he said.
I returned alone to that part of the fort where the billets for the
Europeans and the stores of ammunition were located. An inexpressible
sadness weighed upon me.
I thought of my comrades in French garrisons. At this hour they must
be returning home to find awaiting them, spread out upon the bed,
their dress uniform, their braided tunic, their sparkling epaulettes.
"Tomorrow," I said to myself, "I shall request a change of station."
The stairway of hard-packed earth was already black. But a few gleams
of light still seemed palely prowling in the office when I entered.
A man was sitting at my desk, bending over the files of orders. His
back was toward me. He did not hear me enter.
"Really, Gourrut, my lad, I beg you not to disturb yourself. Make
yourself completely at home."
The man had risen, and I saw him to be quite tall, slender and very
pale.
"Lieutenant Ferrières, is it not?"
He advanced, holding out his hand.
"Captain de Saint-Avit. Delighted, my dear fellow."
At the same time Chatelain appeared on the threshold.
"Sergeant," said the newcomer, "I cannot congratulate you on the
little I have seen. There is not a camel saddle which is not in want
of buckles, and they are rusty enough to suggest that it rains at
Hassi-Inifel three hundred days in the year. Furthermore, where were
you this afternoon? Among the four Frenchmen who compose the post, I
found only on my arrival one convict, opposite a quart of eau-de-vie.
We will change all that, I hope. At ease."
"Captain," I said, and my voice was colorless, while Chatelain
remained frozen at attention, "I must tell you that the Sergeant was
with me, that it is I who am responsible for his absence from the
post, that he is an irreproachable non-commissioned officer from every
point of view, and that if we had been warned of your arrival--"
"Evidently," he said, with a coldly ironical smile. "Also, Lieutenant,
I have no intention of holding him responsible for the negligences
which attach to your office. He is not obliged to know that the
officer who abandons a post like Hassi-Inifel, if it is only for two
hours, risks not finding much left on his return. The Chaamba
brigands, my dear sir, love firearms, and for the sake of the sixty
muskets in your racks, I am sure they would not scruple to make an
officer, whose otherwise excellent record is well known to me, account
for his absence to a court-martial. Come with me, if you please. We
will finish the little inspection I began too rapidly a little while
ago."
He was already on the stairs. I followed in his footsteps. Chatelain
closed the order of march. I heard him murmuring, in a tone which you
can imagine:
"Well, we are in for it now!"