EPIPHANY

"Ah!" said Captain the Count de Garens, "I should rather think that I

do remember that Epiphany supper, during the war!

"At the time I was quarter-master of cavalry, and for a fort night, I

had been lurking about as a scout in front of the German advanced

guard. The evening before we had cut down a few Uhlans and had lost

three men, one of whom was that poor little Raudeville. You remember

Joseph de Raudeville well, of course.

"Well, on that day my captain ordered me to take six troopers and

occupy the village of Porterin, where there had been five fights in

three weeks, and to hold it all night. There were not twenty houses

left standing, nay, not a dozen, in that wasp's nest. So I took ten

troopers, and set out at about four o'clock; at five o'clock, while it

was still pitch dark, we reached the first houses of Porterin. I halted

and ordered Marchas--you know Pierre de Marchas, who afterward married

little Martel-Auvelin, the daughter of the Marquis de

Martel-Auvelin--to go alone into the village and to report to me what

he saw.

"I had chosen nothing but volunteers, and all of good family. When on

service it is pleasant not to be forced into intimacy with unpleasant

fellows. This Marchas was as sharp as possible, as cunning as a fox,

and as supple as a serpent. He could scent the Prussians as well as a

dog can scent a hare, could find victuals where we should have died of

hunger without him, and could obtain information from

everybody--information which was always reliable--with incredible

cleverness.

"In ten minutes he returned. 'All right,' he said; 'there have been no

Prussians here for three days. It is a sinister place, is this village.

I have been talking to a Sister of Mercy, who is attending to four or

five wounded men in an abandoned convent.'

"I ordered them to ride on, and we penetrated into the principal

street. On the right and left we could vaguely see roofless walls,

hardly visible in the profound darkness. Here and there a light was

burning in a room; some family had remained to keep its house standing

as long as they were able; a family of brave, or of poor, people. The

rain began to fall, a fine, icy-cold rain, which froze us before it

wetted us through, by merely touching our cloaks. The horses stumbled

against stones, against beams, against furniture. Marchas guided us,

going before us on foot, and leading his horse by the bridle.

"'Where are you taking us to?' I asked him. And he replied: 'I have a

place for us to lodge in, and a rare good one.' And soon we stopped

before a small house, evidently belonging to some person of the middle

class, completely shut up, built on to the street with a garden in the

rear.

"Marchas broke open the lock by means of a big stone, which he picked

up near the garden gate; then he mounted the steps, smashed in the

front door with his feet and shoulders, lighted a bit of wax candle,

which he was never without, and preceded us into the comfortable

apartments of some rich private individual, guiding us with admirable

assurance, just as if he had lived in this house which he now saw for

the first time.

"Two troopers remained outside to take care of our horses; then Marchas

said to stout Ponderel, who followed him: 'The stables must be on the

left; I saw that as we came in; go and put the animals up there, for we

do not want them,' and then turning to me he said: 'Give your orders,

confound it all!'

"Marchas always astonished me, and I replied with a laugh: 'I shall

post my sentinels at the country approaches and I will return to you

here.'

"'How many men are you going to take?'

"'Five. The others will relieve them at five o'clock in the evening.'

"'Very well. Leave me four to look after provisions, to do the cooking,

and to set the table. I will go and find out where the wine is hidden

away.'

"I went off to reconnoiter the deserted streets, until they ended in

the open country, so as to post my sentries there.

"Half an hour later I was back, and found Marchas lounging in a great

armchair, the covering of which he had taken off, from love of luxury

as he said. He was warming his feet at the fire and smoking an

excellent cigar, whose perfume filled the room. He was alone, his

elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his cheeks flushed, his eyes

bright, and looking delighted.

"I heard the noise of plates and dishes in the next room, and Marchas

said to me, smiling in a beatific manner: 'This is famous; I found the

champagne under the flight of steps outside, the brandy--fifty bottles

of the very finest--in the kitchen garden under a pear-tree, which did

not look to me to be quite straight, when I looked at it by the light

of my lantern. As for solids, we have two fowls, a goose, a duck, and

three pigeons. They are being cooked at this moment. It is a delightful

part of the country.'

"I had sat down opposite to him, and the fire in the grate was burning

my nose and cheeks.

"'Where did you find this wood?' I asked.

"'Splendid wood,' he replied. 'The owner's carriage. It is the paint

which is causing all this flame, an essence of alcohol and varnish. A

capital house!'

"I laughed, for I found the creature was funny, and he went on: 'Fancy

this being the Epiphany! I have had a bean put into the goose, but

there is no queen; it is really very annoying!' And I repeated like an

echo: 'It is annoying, but what do you want me to do in the matter?'

"'To find some, of course.'

"'Some women. Women?--you must be mad!'

"'I managed to find the brandy under the pear-tree, and the champagne

under the steps; and yet there was nothing to guide me, while as for

you, a petticoat is a sure sign. Go and look, old fellow.'

"He looked so grave, so convinced, that I could not tell whether he was

joking or not. So I replied: 'Look here, Marchas, are you having a joke

with me?'

"'I never joke on duty.'

"'But where the devil do you expect me to find any women?'

"'Where you like; there must be two or three remaining in the

neighborhood, so ferret them out and bring them here.'

"I got up, for it was too hot in front of the fire, and Marchas went

on: 'Do you want an idea?'

"'Yes.'

"'Go and see the priest.'

"'The priest? What for?'

"'Ask him to supper, and beg him to bring a woman with him.'

"'The priest! A woman! Ha! ha! ha!'

"But Marchas continued with extraordinary gravity: 'I am not laughing;

go and find the priest and tell him how we are situated, and, as he

must be horribly dull, he will come. But tell him that we want one

woman at least, a lady, of course, since we are all men of the world.

He is sure to have the names of his female parishioners on the tips of

his fingers, and if there is one to suit us, and you manage it well, he

will indicate her to you.'

"'Come, come, Marchas, what are you thinking of?'

"'My dear Garens, you can do this quite well. It will be very funny. We

are well bred, by Jove! and we will put on our most distinguished

manners and our grandest style. Tell the abbe who we are, make him

laugh, soften him, seduce him, and persuade him!'

"'No, it is impossible.'

"He drew his chair close to mine, and as he knew my weak side, the

scamp continued: 'Just think what a swagger thing it will be to do, and

how amusing to tell about; the whole army will talk about it, and it

will give you a famous reputation.'

"I hesitated, for the adventure rather tempted me. He persisted: 'Come,

my little Garens. You are in command of this detachment, and you alone

can go and call on the head of the church in this neighborhood. I beg

of you to go, and I promise you that after the war, I will relate the

whole affair in verse in the "Revue des Deux Mondes." You owe this much

to your men, for you have made them march enough during the last month.'

"I got up at last and asked: 'Where is the parsonage?'

"'Take the second turning at the end of the street; you will then see

an avenue, and at the end of the avenue you will find the church. The

parsonage is beside it.' As I departed he called out: 'Tell him the

bill of fare, to make him hungry!'

"I discovered the ecclesiastic's little house without any difficulty;

it was by the side of a large, ugly, brick church. As there was neither

bell nor knocker, I knocked at the door with my fist, and a loud voice

from inside asked: 'Who is there?' to which I replied: 'A quartermaster

of hussars.'

"I heard the noise of bolts, and of a key being turned. Then I found

myself face to face with a tall priest with a large stomach, the chest

of a prize-fighter, formidable hands projecting from turned-up sleeves,

a red face, and the looks of a kind man. I gave him a military salute

and said: 'Good day, Monsieur le Cure.'

"He had feared a surprise, some marauders' ambush, and he smiled as he

replied: 'Good day, my friend; come in.' I followed him into a small

room, with a red tiled floor, in which a small fire was burning, very

different to Marchas's furnace. He gave me a chair and said: 'What can

I do for you?'

"'Monsieur, allow me first of all to introduce myself'; and I gave him

my card, which he took and read half aloud: 'The Comte de Garens.'

"I continued: 'There are eleven of us here Monsieur l'Abbe, five on

grand guard, and six installed at the house of an unknown inhabitant.

The names of the six are, Garens (that is I), Pierre de Marchas,

Ludovic de Ponderel, Baron d'Etreillis, Karl Massouligny, the painter's

son, and Joseph Herbon, a young musician. I have come to ask you, in

their name and my own, to do us the honor of supping with us. It is an

Epiphany supper, Monsieur le Cure, and we should like to make it a

little cheerful.'

"The priest smiled and murmured: 'It seems to me to be hardly a

suitable occasion for amusing oneself.'

"I replied: 'We are fighting every day, Monsieur. Fourteen of our

comrades have been killed in a month, and three fell as late as

yesterday. That is war. We stake our life every moment; have we not,

therefore, the right to amuse ourselves freely? We are Frenchmen, we

like to laugh, and we can laugh everywhere. Our fathers laughed on the

scaffold! This evening we should like to brighten ourselves up a

little, like gentlemen, and not like soldiers; you understand me, I

hope. Are we wrong?'

"He replied quickly: 'You are quite right, my friend, and I accept your

invitation with great pleasure.' Then he called out: 'Hermance!'

"An old, bent, wrinkled, horrible, peasant woman appeared and said:

'What do you want?'

"'I shall not dine at home, my daughter.'

"'Where are you going to dine then?'

"'With some gentlemen, hussars.'

"I felt inclined to say: 'Bring your servant with you,' just to see

Marchas's face, but I did not venture to, and continued: 'Do you know

anyone among your parishioners, male or female, whom I could invite as

well?' He hesitated, reflected, and then said: 'No, I do not know

anybody!'

"I persisted: 'Nobody? Come, Monsieur, think; it would be very nice to

have some ladies, I mean to say, some married couples! I know nothing

about your parishioners. The baker and his wife, the grocer,

the--the--the--watchmaker--the--shoemaker--the--the chemist with his

wife. We have a good spread, and plenty of wine, and we should be

enchanted to leave pleasant recollections of ourselves behind us with

the people here.'

"The priest thought again for a long time and then said resolutely:

'No, there is nobody.'

"I began to laugh. 'By Jove, Monsieur le Cure, it is very vexing not to

have an Epiphany queen, for we have the bean. Come, think. Is there not

a married mayor, or a married deputy-mayor, or a married municipal

councilor, or schoolmaster?'

"'No all the ladies have gone away.'

"'What, is there not in the whole place some good tradesman's wife with

her good tradesman, to whom we might give this pleasure, for it would

be a pleasure to them, a great pleasure under present circumstances?'

"But suddenly the cure began to laugh, and he laughed so violently that

he fairly shook, and exclaimed: 'Ha! ha! ha! I have got what you want,

yes. I have got what you want! Ha! ha! ha! We will laugh and enjoy

ourselves, my children, we will have some fun. How pleased the ladies

will be, I say, how delighted they will be. Ha! ha! Where are you

staying?'

"I described the house, and he understood where it was. 'Very good,' he

said. 'It belongs to Monsieur Bertin-Lavaille. I will be there in half

an hour, with four ladies. Ha! ha! ha! four ladies!'

"He went out with me, still laughing, and left me, repeating: 'That is

capital; in half an hour at Bertin-Lavaille's house.'

"I returned quickly, very much astonished and very much puzzled.

'Covers for how many?' Marchas asked, as soon as he saw me.

"'Eleven. There are six of us hussars besides the priest and four

ladies.'

"He was thunderstruck, and I triumphant, and he repeated 'Four ladies!

Did you say, four ladies?'

"'I said four women.'

"'Real women?'

"'Real women.'

"'Well, accept my compliments!'

"'I will, for I deserve them.'

"He got out of his armchair, opened the door, and I saw a beautiful,

white tablecloth on a long table, round which three hussars in blue

aprons were setting out the plates and glasses. 'There are some women

coming!' Marchas cried. And the three men began to dance and to cheer

with all their might.

"Everything was ready, and we were waiting. We waited for nearly an

hour, while a delicious smell of roast poultry pervaded the whole

house. At last, however, a knock against the shutters made us all jump

up at the same moment. Stout Ponderel ran to open the door, and in less

than a minute a little Sister of Mercy appeared in the doorway. She was

thin, wrinkled, and timid, and successively saluted the four bewildered

hussars who saw her enter. Behind her, the noise of sticks sounded on

the tiled floor in the vestibule. As soon as she had come into the

drawing-room I saw three old heads in white caps, following each other

one by one, balancing themselves with different movements, one canting

to the right, while the other canted to the left. Then three worthy

women showed themselves, limping, dragging their legs behind them,

crippled by illness and deformed through old age, three infirm old

women, past service, the only three pensioners who were able to walk in

the establishment which Sister Saint-Benedict managed.

"She had turned round to her invalids, full of anxiety for them, and

then seeing my quartermaster's stripes, she said to me: 'I am much

obliged to you for thinking of these poor women. They have very little

pleasure in life, and you are at the same time giving them a great

treat and doing them a great honor.'

"I saw the priest, who had remained in the obscurity of the passage,

and who was laughing heartily, and I began to laugh in my turn,

especially when I saw Marchas's face. Then, motioning the nun to the

seats, I said: 'Sit down, Sister: we are very proud and very happy that

you have accepted our unpretentious invitation.'

"She took three chairs which stood against the wall, set them before

the fire, led her three old women to them, settled them on them, took

their sticks and shawls which she put into a corner, and then, pointing

to the first, a thin woman with an enormous stomach, who was evidently

suffering from the dropsy, she said: 'This is Mother Paumelle, whose

husband was killed by falling from a roof, and whose son died in

Africa; she is sixty years old.' Then she pointed to another, a tall

woman, whose head shook unceasingly: 'This is Mother Jean-Jean, who is

sixty-seven. She is nearly blind, for her face was terribly singed in a

fire, and her right leg was half burned off.'

"Then she pointed to the third, a sort of dwarf, with protruding,

round, stupid eyes, which she rolled incessantly in all directions.

'This is La Putois, an idiot. She is only forty-four.'

"I bowed to the three women as if I were being presented to some Royal

Highness, and turning to the priest I said: 'You are an excellent man,

Monsieur l'Abbe, and we all owe you a debt of gratitude.'

"Everybody was laughing, in fact, except Marchas, who seemed furious,

and just then Karl Massouligny cried: 'Sister Saint-Benedict, supper is

on the table!'

"I made her go first with the priest, then I helped up Mother Paumelle,

whose arm I took and dragged her into the next room, which was no easy

task, for her swollen stomach seemed heavier than a lump of iron.

"Stout Ponderel gave his arm to Mother Jean-Jean, who bemoaned her

crutch, and little Joseph Herbon took the idiot, La Putois, to the

dining-room, which was filled with the odor of the viands.

"As soon as we were opposite our plates, the Sister clapped her hands

three times, and, with the precision of soldiers presenting arms, the

women made a rapid sign of the cross, and then the priest slowly

repeated the 'Benedictus' in Latin. Then we sat down, and the two fowls

appeared, brought in by Marchas, who chose to wait rather than to sit

down as a guest at this ridiculous repast.

"But I cried: 'Bring the champagne at once!' and a cork flew out with

the noise of a pistol, and in spite of the resistance of the priest and

the kind Sister, the three hussars sitting by the side of the three

invalids, emptied their three full glasses down their throats by force.

"Massouligny, who possessed the faculty of making himself at home, and

of being on good terms with everyone, wherever he was, made love to

Mother Paumelle, in the drollest manner. The dropsical woman, who had

retained her cheerfulness in spite of her misfortunes, answered him

banteringly in a high falsetto voice which seemed to be assumed, and

she laughed so heartily at her neighbor's jokes that her large stomach

looked as if it were going to rise up and get on to the table. Little

Herbon had seriously undertaken the task of making the idiot drunk, and

Baron d'Etreillis whose wits were not always particularly sharp, was

questioning old Jean-Jean about the life, the habits, and the rules in

the hospital.

"The nun said to Massouligny in consternation: 'Oh! oh! you will make

her ill; pray do not make her laugh like that, Monsieur. Oh! Monsieur.'

Then she got up and rushed at Herbon to take a full glass out of his

hands which he was hastily emptying down La Putois's throat, while the

priest shook with laughter, and said to the Sister: 'Never mind, just

this once, it will not hurt her. Do leave them alone.'

"After the two fowls they ate the duck, which was flanked by the three

pigeons and a blackbird, and then the goose appeared, smoking,

golden-colored, and diffusing a warm odor of hot, browned fat meat. La

Paumelle who was getting lively, clapped her hands; La Jean-Jean left

off answering the Baron's numerous questions, and La Putois uttered

grunts of pleasure, half cries and half sighs, like little children do

when one shows them sweets. 'Allow me to carve this bird,' the cure

said. 'I understand these sort of operations better than most people.'

"'Certainly, Monsieur l'Abbe,' and the Sister said: 'How would it be to

open the window a little; they are too warm, and I am afraid they will

be ill.'

"I turned to Marchas: 'Open the window for a minute.' He did so; the

cold outer air as it came in made the candles flare, and the smoke from

the goose--which the cure was scientifically carving, with a table

napkin round his neck--whirl about. We watched him doing it, without

speaking now, for we were interested in his attractive handiwork, and

also seized with renewed appetite at the sight of that enormous

golden-colored bird, whose limbs fell one after another into the brown

gravy at the bottom of the dish. At that moment, in the midst of greedy

silence which kept us all attentive, the distant report of a shot came

in at the open window.

"I started to my feet so quickly that my chair fell down behind me, and

I shouted: 'Mount, all of you! You, Marchas, will take two men and go

and see what it is. I shall expect you back here in five minutes.' And

while the three riders went off at full gallop through the night, I got

into the saddle with my three remaining hussars, in front of the steps

of the villa, while the cure, the Sister, and the three old women

showed their frightened faces at the window.

"We heard nothing more, except the barking of a dog in the distance.

The rain had ceased, and it was cold, very cold. Soon I heard the

gallop of a horse, of a single horse, coming back. It was Marchas, and

I called out to him: 'Well?'

"'It is nothing; Francois has wounded an old peasant who refused to

answer his challenge and who continued to advance in spite of the order

to keep off. They are bringing him here, and we shall see what is the

matter.'

"I gave orders for the horses to be put back into the stable, and I

sent my two soldiers to meet the others, and returned to the house.

Then the cure, Marchas and I took a mattress into the room to put the

wounded man on; the Sister tore up a table napkin in order to make

lint, while the three frightened women remained huddled up in a corner.

"Soon I heard the rattle of sabers on the road, and I took a candle to

show a light to the men who were returning. They soon appeared,

carrying that inert, soft, long, and sinister object which a human body

becomes when life no longer sustains it.

"They put the wounded man on the mattress that had been prepared for

him, and I saw at the first glance that he was dying. He had the death

rattle, and was spitting up blood which ran out of the corners of his

mouth, forced out of his lungs by his gasps. The man was covered with

it! His cheeks, his beard, his hair, his neck, and his clothes seemed

to have been rubbed, to have been dipped in a red tub; the blood had

congealed on him, and had become a dull color which was horrible to

look at.

"The old man, wrapped up in a large shepherd's cloak, occasionally

opened his dull, vacant eyes. They seemed stupid with astonishment,

like the eyes of hunted animals which fall at the sportsman's feet,

half dead before the shot, stupefied with fear and surprise.

"The cure exclaimed: 'Ah! there is old Placide, the shepherd from Les

Marlins. He is deaf, poor man, and heard nothing. Ah! Oh, God! they

have killed the unhappy man!' The Sister had opened his blouse and

shirt and was looking at a little blue hole in the middle of his chest,

which was not bleeding any more. 'There is nothing to be done,' she

said.

"The shepherd was gasping terribly and bringing up blood with every

breath. In his throat to the very depth of his lungs, they could hear

an ominous and continued gurgling. The cure, standing in front of him,

raised his right hand, made the sign of the cross, and in a slow and

solemn voice pronounced the Latin words which purify men's souls. But

before they were finished, the old man was shaken by a rapid shudder,

as if something had broken inside him; he no longer breathed. He was

dead.

"When I turned round I saw a sight which was even more horrible than

the death struggle of this unfortunate man. The three old women were

standing up huddled close together, hideous, and grimacing with fear

and horror. I went up to them, and they began to utter shrill screams,

while La Jean-Jean, whose leg had been burned and could not longer

support her, fell to the ground at full length.

"Sister Saint-Benedict left the dead man, ran up to her infirm old

women, and without a word or a look for me wrapped their shawls round

them, gave them their crutches, pushed them to the door, made them go

out, and disappeared with them into the dark night.

"I saw that I could not even let a hussar accompany them, for the mere

rattle of a sword would have sent them mad with fear.

"The cure was still looking at the dead man; but at last he turned to

me and said:

"'Oh! What a horrible thing!'"