The Major Graf[1] von Farlsberg, the Prussian commandant, was reading
his newspaper, lying back in a great armchair, with his booted feet on
the beautiful marble fireplace, where his spurs had made two holes,
which grew deeper every day, during the three months that he had been
in the chateau of Urville.
A cup of coffee was smoking on a small inlaid table, which was stained
with liquors burnt by cigars, notched by the penknife of the victorious
officer, who occasionally would stop while sharpening a pencil, to jot
down figures, or to make a drawing on it, just as it took his fancy.
When he had read his letters and the German newspapers, which his
baggage-master had brought him, he got up, and after throwing three or
four enormous pieces of green wood on to the fire--for these gentlemen
were gradually cutting down the park in order to keep themselves
warm--he went to the window. The rain was descending in torrents, a
regular Normandy rain, which looked as if it were being poured out by
some furious hand, a slanting rain, which was as thick as a curtain,
and which formed a kind of wall with oblique stripes, and which deluged
everything, a regular rain, such as one frequently experiences in the
neighborhood of Rouen, which is the watering-pot of France.
For a long time the officer looked at the sodden turf, and at the
swollen Andelle beyond it, which was overflowing its banks, and he was
drumming a waltz from the Rhine on the window-panes, with his fingers,
when a noise made him turn round; it was his second in command, Captain
Baron von Kelweinstein.
The major was a giant, with broad shoulders, and a long, fair beard,
which hung like a cloth on to his chest. His whole, solemn person
suggested the idea of a military peacock, a peacock who was carrying
his tail spread out on to his breast. He had cold, gentle, blue eyes,
and the scar from a sword-cut, which he had received in the war with
Austria; he was said to be an honorable man, as well as a brave officer.
The captain, a short, red-faced man, who was tightly girthed in at the
waist, had his red hair cropped quite close to his head, and in certain
lights almost looked as if he had been rubbed over with phosphorus. He
had lost two front teeth one night, though he could not quite remember
how. This defect made him speak so that he could not always be
understood, and he had a bald patch on the top of his head, which made
him look rather like a monk, with a fringe of curly, bright, golden
hair round the circle of bare skin.
The commandant shook hands with him, and drank his cup of coffee (the
sixth that morning) at a draught, while he listened to his
subordinate's report of what had occurred; and then they both went to
the window, and declared that it was a very unpleasant outlook. The
major, who was a quiet man, with a wife at home, could accommodate
himself to everything; but the captain, who was rather fast, being in
the habit of frequenting low resorts, and much given to women, was mad
at having been shut up for three months in the compulsory chastity of
that wretched hole.
There was a knock at the door, and when the commandant said, "Come in,"
one of their automatic soldiers appeared, and by his mere presence
announced that breakfast was ready. In the dining-room, they met three
other officers of lower rank: a lieutenant, Otto von Grossling, and two
sub-lieutenants, Fritz Scheunebarg, and Count von Eyrick a very short,
fair-haired man, who was proud and brutal toward men, harsh toward
prisoners, and very violent.
Since he had been in France, his comrades had called him nothing but
"Mademoiselle Fifi." They had given him that nickname on account of his
dandified style and small waist, which looked as if he wore stays, from
his pale face, on which his budding mustache scarcely showed, and on
account of the habit he had acquired of employing the French
expression, fi, fi donc, which he pronounced with a slight whistle,
when he wished to express his sovereign contempt for persons or things.
The dining-room of the chateau was a magnificent long room, whose fine
old mirrors, now cracked by pistol bullets, and Flemish tapestry, now
cut to ribbons and hanging in rags in places, from sword-cuts, told too
well what Mademoiselle Fifi's occupation was during his spare time.
There were three family portraits on the walls; a steel-clad knight, a
cardinal, and a judge, who were all smoking long porcelain pipes, which
had been inserted into holes in the canvas, while a lady in a long,
pointed waist proudly exhibited an enormous pair of mustaches, drawn
with a piece of charcoal.
The officers ate their breakfast almost in silence in that mutilated
room, which looked dull in the rain, and melancholy under its
vanquished appearance, although its old, oak floor had become as solid
as the stone floor of a public-house.
When they had finished eating, and were smoking and drinking, they
began, as usual, to talk about the dull life they were leading. The
bottles of brandy and of liquors passed from hand to hand, and all sat
back in their chairs, taking repeated sips from their glasses, and
scarcely removing the long, bent stems, which terminated in china bowls
painted in a manner to delight a Hottentot, from their mouths.
As soon as their glasses were empty, they filled them again, with a
gesture of resigned weariness, but Mademoiselle Fifi emptied his every
minute, and a soldier immediately gave him another. They were enveloped
in a cloud of strong tobacco smoke; they seemed to be sunk in a state
of drowsy, stupid intoxication, in that dull state of drunkenness of
men who have nothing to do, when suddenly, the baron sat up, and said:
"By heavens! This cannot go on; we must think of something to do." And
on hearing this, Lieutenant Otto and Sub-lieutenant Fritz, who
pre-eminently possessed the grave, heavy German countenance, said:
"What, Captain?"
He thought for a few moments, and then replied "What? Well, we must get
up some entertainment; if the commandant will allow us."
"What sort of an entertainment, captain?" the major asked, taking his
pipe out of his mouth.
"I will arrange all that, commandant," the baron said. "I will send Le
Devoir to Rouen, who will bring us some ladies. I know where they can
be found. We will have supper here, as all the materials are at hand,
and, at least, we shall have a jolly evening."
Graf von Farlsberg shrugged his shoulders with a smile: "You must
surely be mad, my friend."
But all the other officers got up, surrounded their chief, and said:
"Let the captain have his own way, commandant; it is terribly dull
here."
And the major ended by yielding. "Very well," he replied, and the baron
immediately sent for Le Devoir.
The latter was an old corporal who had never been seen to smile, but
who carried out all the orders of his superiors to the letter, no
matter what they might be. He stood there, with an impassive face while
he received the baron's instructions, and then went out; five minutes
later a large wagon belonging to the military train, covered with a
miller's tilt, galloped off as fast as four horses could take it, under
the pouring rain, and the officers all seemed to awaken from their
lethargy, their looks brightened, and they began to talk.
Although it was raining as hard as ever, the major declared that it was
not so dull, and Lieutenant von Grossling said with conviction, that
the sky was clearing up, while Mademoiselle Fifi did not seem to be
able to keep in his place. He got up, and sat down again, and his
bright eyes seemed to be looking for something to destroy. Suddenly,
looking at the lady with the mustaches, the young fellow pulled out his
revolver, and said: "You shall not see it." And without leaving his
seat he aimed, and with two successive bullets cut out both the eyes of
the portrait.
"Let us make a mine!" he then exclaimed, and the conversation was
suddenly interrupted, as if they had found some fresh and powerful
subject of interest. The mine was his invention, his method of
destruction, and his favorite amusement.
When he left the chateau, the lawful owner, Count Fernand d'Amoys
d'Urville, had not had time to carry away or to hide anything, except
the plate, which had been stowed away in a hole made in one of the
walls, so that, as he was very rich and had good taste, the large
drawing-room, which opened into the dining-room, had looked like the
gallery in a museum, before his precipitate flight.
Expensive oil-paintings, water-colors, and drawings hung upon the
walls, while on the tables, on the hanging shelves, and in elegant
glass cupboards, there were a thousand knickknacks: small vases,
statuettes, groups in Dresden china, grotesque Chinese figures, old
ivory, and Venetian glass, which filled the large room with their
precious and fantastical array.
Scarcely anything was left now; not that the things had been stolen,
for the major would not have allowed that, but Mademoiselle Fifi WOULD
HAVE A MINE, and on that occasion all the officers thoroughly enjoyed
themselves for five minutes. The little marquis went into the
drawing-room to get what he wanted, and he brought back a small,
delicate china teapot, which he filled with gunpowder, and carefully
introduced a piece of German tinder into it, through the spout. Then he
lighted it, and took this infernal machine into the next room; but he
came back immediately and shut the door. The Germans all stood
expectantly, their faces full of childish, smiling curiosity, and as
soon as the explosion had shaken the chateau, they all rushed in at
once.
Mademoiselle Fifi, who got in first, clapped his hands in delight at
the sight of a terra-cotta Venus, whose head had been blown off, and
each picked up pieces of porcelain, and wondered at the strange shape
of the fragments, while the major was looking with a paternal eye at
the large drawing-room which had been wrecked in such a Neronic
fashion, and which was strewn with the fragments of works of art. He
went out first, and said, with a smile: "He managed that very well!"
But there was such a cloud of smoke in the dining-room, mingled with
the tobacco smoke, that they could not breathe, so the commandant
opened the window, and all the officers, who had gone into the room for
a glass of cognac, went up to it.
The moist air blew into the room, and brought a sort of spray with it,
which powdered their beards. They looked at the tall trees which were
dripping with the rain, at the broad valley which was covered with
mist, and at the church spire in the distance, which rose up like a
gray point in the beating rain.
The bells had not rung since their arrival. That was the only
resistance which the invaders had met with in the neighborhood. The
parish priest had not refused to take in and to feed the Prussian
soldiers; he had several times even drunk a bottle of beer or claret
with the hostile commandant, who often employed him as a benevolent
intermediary; but it was no use to ask him for a single stroke of the
bells; he would sooner have allowed himself to be shot. That was his
way of protesting against the invasion, a peaceful and silent protest,
the only one, he said, which was suitable to a priest, who was a man of
mildness, and not of blood; and everyone, for twenty-five miles round,
praised Abbe Chantavoine's firmness and heroism, in venturing to
proclaim the public mourning by the obstinate silence of his church
bells.
The whole village grew enthusiastic over his resistance, and was ready
to back up their pastor and to risk anything, as they looked upon that
silent protest as the safeguard of the national honor. It seemed to the
peasants that thus they had deserved better of their country than
Belfort and Strassburg, that they had set an equally valuable example,
and that the name of their little village would become immortalized by
that; but with that exception, they refused their Prussian conquerors
nothing.
The commandant and his officers laughed among themselves at that
inoffensive courage, and as the people in the whole country round
showed themselves obliging and compliant toward them, they willingly
tolerated their silent patriotism. Only little Count Wilhelm would have
liked to have forced them to ring the bells. He was very angry at his
superior's politic compliance with the priest's scruples, and every day
he begged the commandant to allow him to sound "ding-dong, ding-dong,"
just once, only just once, just by way of a joke. And he asked it like
a wheedling woman, in the tender voice of some mistress who wishes to
obtain something, but the commandant would not yield, and to console
HERSELF, Mademoiselle Fifi made A MINE in the chateau.
The five men stood there together for some minutes, inhaling the moist
air, and at last, Lieutenant Fritz said, with a laugh: "The ladies will
certainly not have fine weather for their drive." Then they separated,
each to his own duties, while the captain had plenty to do in seeing
about the dinner.
When they met again, as it was growing dark, they began to laugh at
seeing each other as dandified and smart as on the day of a grand
review. The commandant's hair did not look as gray as it did in the
morning, and the captain had shaved--had only kept his mustache on,
which made him look as if he had a streak of fire under his nose.
In spite of the rain, they left the window open, and one of them went
to listen from time to time. At a quarter past six the baron said he
heard a rumbling in the distance. They all rushed down, and soon the
wagon drove up at a gallop with its four horses, splashed up to their
backs, steaming and panting. Five women got out at the bottom of the
steps, five handsome girls whom a comrade of the captain, to whom Le
Dervoir had taken his card, had selected with care.
They had not required much pressing, as they were sure of being well
treated, for they had got to know the Prussians in the three months
during which they had had to do with them. So they resigned themselves
to the men as they did to the state of affairs. "It is part of our
business, so it must be done," they said as they drove along; no doubt
to allay some slight, secret scruples of conscience.
They went into the dining-room immediately, which looked still more
dismal in its dilapidated state, when it was lighted up; while the
table covered with choice dishes, the beautiful china and glass, and
the plate, which had been found in the hole in the wall where its owner
had hidden it, gave to the place the look of a bandits' resort, where
they were supping after committing a robbery. The captain was radiant;
he took hold of the women as if he were familiar with them; appraising
them, kissing them, valuing them for what they were worth as LADIES OF
PLEASURE; and when the three young men wanted to appropriate one each,
he opposed them authoritatively, reserving to himself the right to
apportion them justly, according to their several ranks, so as not to
wound the hierarchy. Therefore, so as to avoid all discussion, jarring,
and suspicion of partiality, he placed them all in a line according to
height, and addressing the tallest, he said in a voice of command:
"What is your name?"
"Pamela," she replied, raising her voice.
Then he said: "Number One, called Pamela, is adjudged to the
commandant."
Then, having kissed Blondina, the second, as a sign of proprietorship,
he proffered stout Amanda to Lieutenant Otto! Eva, "the Tomato," to
Sub-lieutenant Fritz, and Rachel, the shortest of them all, a very
young, dark girl, with eyes as black as ink, a Jewess, whose snub nose
confirmed by exception the rule which allots hooked noses to all her
race, to the youngest officer, frail Count Wilhelm von Eyrick.
They were all pretty and plump, without any distinctive features, and
all were very much alike in look and person, from their daily
dissipation, and the life common to houses of public accommodation.
The three younger men wished to carry off their women immediately,
under the pretext of finding them brushes and soap; but the captain
wisely opposed this, for he said they were quite fit to sit down to
dinner, and that those who went up would wish for a change when they
came down, and so would disturb the other couples, and his experience
in such matters carried the day. There were only many kisses; expectant
kisses.
Suddenly Rachel choked, and began to cough until the tears came into
her eyes, while smoke came through her nostrils. Under pretense of
kissing her, the count had blown a whiff of tobacco into her mouth. She
did not fly into a rage, and did not say a word, but she looked at her
possessor with latent hatred in her dark eyes.
They sat down to dinner. The commandant seemed delighted; he made
Pamela sit on his right, and Blondina on his left, and said, as he
unfolded his table napkin: "That was a delightful idea of yours,
captain."
Lieutenants Otto and Fritz, who were as polite as if they had been with
fashionable ladies, rather intimidated their neighbors, but Baron von
Kelweinstein gave the reins to all his vicious propensities, beamed,
made doubtful remarks, and seemed on fire with his crown of red hair.
He paid them compliments in French from the other side of the Rhine,
and sputtered out gallant remarks, only fit for a low pot-house, from
between his two broken teeth.
They did not understand him, however, and their intelligence did not
seem to be awakened until he uttered nasty words and broad expressions,
which were mangled by his accent. Then all began to laugh at once, like
mad women, and fell against each other, repeating the words, which the
baron then began to say all wrong, in order that he might have the
pleasure of hearing them say doubtful things. They gave him as much of
that stuff as he wanted, for they were drunk after the first bottle of
wine, and, becoming themselves once more, and opening the door to their
usual habits, they kissed the mustaches on the right and left of them,
pinched their arms, uttered furious cries, drank out of every glass,
and sang French couplets, and bits of German songs, which they had
picked up in their daily intercourse with the enemy.
Soon the men themselves, intoxicated by that which was displayed to
their sight and touch, grew very amorous, shouted and broke the plates
and dishes, while the soldiers behind them waited on them stolidly. The
commandant was the only one who put any restraint upon himself.
Mademoiselle Fifi had taken Rachel on to his knees, and, getting
excited, at one moment kissed the little black curls on her neck,
inhaling the pleasant warmth of her body, and all the savor of her
person, through the slight space there was between her dress and her
skin, and at another pinched her furiously through the material, and
made her scream, for he was seized with a species of ferocity, and
tormented by his desire to hurt her. He often held her close to him, as
if to make her part of himself, and put his lips in a long kiss on the
Jewess's rosy mouth, until she lost her breath; and at last he bit her
until a stream of blood ran down her chin and on to her bodice.
For the second time, she looked him full in the face, and as she bathed
the wound, she said: "You will have to pay for that!"