They went into a little "café" and had a glass of absinthe, and then
started again on their walk.
They stopped at another "café" for another glass. When they came out
again they were slightly dazed, like people who had fasted long and
then partaken too freely.
It was lovely weather; a soft breeze fanned their faces. Monsieur
Sauvage, upon whom the fresh air was beginning to take effect, suddenly
said: "Suppose we were to go!"
"Go where?"
"Why, fishing!"
"But where?"
"To our island, of course. The French outposts are at Colombes. I know
Colonel Dumoulin; he will let us pass through easily enough."
[Illustration: "THEY WENT ON THEIR WAY REJOICING."]
Morisot trembled with delight at the very idea: "All right, I'm your
man."
They separated to fetch their rods.
An hour afterwards they were walking fast along the high-road, towards
the town commanded by Colonel Dumoulin. He smiled at their request but
granted it, and they went on their way rejoicing in the possession of
the password.
Soon they had crossed the lines, passed through deserted Colombes, and
found themselves in the vineyard leading down to the river. It was
about eleven o'clock.
On the other side the village of Argenteuil seemed as if it were dead.
The hills of Orgremont and Saumons commanded the whole country round.
The great plain stretching out as far as Nanterne was empty as air.
Nothing in sight but cherry trees, and stretches of grey soil.
Monsieur Sauvage pointed with his finger to the heights above and said,
"The Prussians are up there," and a vague sense of uneasiness seized
upon the two friends.
The Prussians! They had never set eyes upon them, but for months past
they had felt their presence near, encircling their beloved Paris,
ruining their beloved France, pillaging, massacring, insatiable,
invincible, invisible, all-powerful, and as they thought on them a
sort of superstitious terror seemed to mingle with the hate they bore
towards their unknown conquerors. Morisot murmured, "Suppose we were to
meet them," and Sauvage replied, with the instinctive gallantry of the
Parisian, "Well! we would offer them some of our fish for supper."
All the same they hesitated before venturing into the country,
intimidated as they were by the all-pervading silence.
Eventually Monsieur Sauvage plucked up courage: "Come along, let's make
a start; but we must be cautious."
They went through the vineyard, bent double, crawling along from bush
to bush, ears and eyes upon the alert.
Only one strip of ground lay between them and the river. They began to
run, and when they reached the bank they crouched down among the dry
reeds for shelter.
Morisot laid his ear to the ground to listen for the sound of
footsteps, but he could hear nothing. They were alone, quite alone;
gradually they felt reassured and began to fish.
The deserted island of Maranthe hid them from the opposite shore. The
little restaurant was closed, and looked as if it had been neglected
for years.
Monsieur Sauvage caught the first gudgeon, Monsieur Morisot the second.
And every minute they pulled up their lines with a little silver object
dangling and struggling on the hook. Truly, a miraculous draught of
fishes. As the fish were caught they put them in a net which floated
in the water at their feet. They positively revelled in enjoyment of a
long-forbidden sport. The sun shone warm upon their backs. They heard
nothing--they thought of nothing--the rest of the world was as nothing
to them. They simply fished.
Suddenly a smothered sound, as it were underground, made the earth
tremble. The guns had recommenced firing. Morisot turned his head,
and saw above the bank, far away to the left, the vast shadow of Mont
Valerien, and over it the white wreath of smoke from the gun which had
just been fired. Then a jet of flame burst forth from the fortress in
answer, a moment later followed by another explosion. Then others, till
every second as it seemed the mountain breathed out death, and the
white smoke formed a funeral pall above it.
Monsieur Sauvage shrugged his shoulders. "They are beginning again," he
said.
Monsieur Morisot, anxiously watching his float bob up and down, was
suddenly seized with rage against the belligerents and growled out:
"How idiotic to kill one another like that."