All the women were in the casemates, except some old servants who did
not want to leave their kitchens; they screamed out: "Help! Fire!"
We were all sure that we were lost; only the old soldiers, crooked on
their bench by the stove, with their pipes in their mouths, seemed very
calm, as people might who have nothing to lose.
What was worst of all, at the moment when our cannon at the arsenal and
powder-house began to answer the Russians', and made every pane of
glass in the old building rattle, Sergeant Monborne called out: "Somme,
Chevreux, Moses, Dubourg: Forward!"
To send fathers of families roaming about through the mud, in danger,
at every step, of being struck by bursting shells, tiles, and whole
chimneys falling on their backs, is something against nature; the very
mention of it makes me perfectly furious.
Somme and the big innkeeper Chevreux turned round, full of indignation
also; they wanted to exclaim: "It is abominable!"
But that rascal of a Monborne was sergeant, and nobody dared speak a
word or even give a side-look; and as Winter, the corporal of the
round, had taken down his musket, and made a signal for us to go on, we
all took our arms and followed him.
As we went down the stairway, you should have seen the red light, flash
after flash, lighting up every nook and corner under the stairs and the
worm-eaten rafters; you should have heard our twenty-four pounders
thunder; the old rat-hole shook to its foundations, and seemed as if it
was all falling to pieces. And under the arch below, toward the Place
d'Armes, this light shone from the snow banks to the tops of the roofs,
showing the glittering pavements, the puddles of water, the chimneys,
and dormer-windows, and, at the very end of the street, the cavalry
barracks, even the sentry in his box near the large gate:--what a sight!
"It is all over! We are all lost!" I thought.
Two shells passed at this moment over the city: they were the first
that I had seen; they moved so slowly that I could follow them through
the dark sky; both fell in the trenches, behind the hospital. The
charge was too heavy, luckily for us.
I did not speak, nor did the others--we kept our thoughts to ourselves.
We heard the calls "Sentries, attention!" answered from one bastion to
another all around the place, warning us of the terrible danger we were
in.
Corporal Winter, with his old faded blouse, coarse cotton cap, stooping
shoulders, musket in shoulder-belt, pipe-end between his teeth, and
lantern full of tallow swinging at arm's length, walked before us,
calling out: "Look out for the shells! Lie flat! Do you hear?"
I have always thought that veterans of this sort despise citizens, and
that he said this to frighten us still more.
A little farther on, at the entrance of the cul-de-sac where Cloutier
lived, he halted.
"Come on!" he called, for we marched in file without seeing each other.
When we had come up to him he said, "There, now, you men, try to keep
together! Our patrol is to prevent fire from breaking out anywhere; as
soon as we see a shell pass, Moses will run up and snatch the fuse."
He burst into a laugh as he spoke, so that my anger was roused.
"I have not come here to be laughed at," said I; "if you take me for a
fool, I will throw down my musket and cartridge-box, and go to the
casemates."
He laughed harder than ever. "Moses, respect thy superiors, or beware
of the court-martial!" said he.
The others would have laughed too, but the shell-flashes began again;
they went down the rampart street, driving the air before them like
gusts of wind; the cannon of the arsenal bastion had just fired. At
the same time a shell burst in the street of the Capuchins; Spick's
chimney and half his roof fell to the ground with a frightful noise.
"Forward! March!" called Winter.
They had now all become sober. We followed the lantern to the French
gate. Behind us, in the street of the Capuchins, a dog howled
incessantly. Now and then Winter stopped, and we all listened; nothing
was stirring, and nothing was to be heard but the dog and the cries:
"Sentries, attention!" The city was as still as death.
We ought to have gone into the guard-house, for there was nothing to be
seen; but the lantern went on toward the gate, swinging above the
gutter. That Winter had taken too much brandy!
"We are of no use in this street," said Cheyreux; "we can't keep the
balls from passing."
But Winter kept calling out: "Are you coming?" And we had to obey.
In front of Genodet's stables, where the old barns of the gendarmerie
begin, a lane turned to the left toward the hospital. This was full of
manure and heaps of dirt--a drain in fact. Well, this rascal of a
Winter turned into it, and as we could not see our feet without the
lantern, we had to follow him. We went groping, under the roofs of the
sheds, along the crazy old walls. It seemed as if we should never get
out of this gutter; but at last we came out near the hospital in the
midst of the great piles of manure, which were heaped against the
grating of the sewer.
It seemed a little lighter, and we saw the roof of the French gate, and
the line of fortifications black against the sky; and almost
immediately I perceived the figure of a man gliding among the trees at
the top of the rampart. It was a soldier stooping so that his hands
almost touched the ground. They did not fire on this side; the distant
flashes passed over the roofs, and did not lighten the streets below.
I caught Winter's arm, and pointed out to him this man; he instantly
hid his lantern under his blouse. The soldier whose back was toward
us, stood up, and looked round, apparently listening. This lasted for
two or three minutes; then he passed over the rampart at the corner of
the bastion, and we heard something scrape the wall of the rampart.
Winter immediately began to run, crying out: "A deserter! To the
postern!"
We had heard before this of deserters slipping down into the trenches
by means of their bayonets. We all ran. The sentry called out: "Who
goes there?"
"The citizen patrol," replied Winter.
He advanced, gave the order, and we went down the postern steps like
wild beasts.
Below, at the foot of the large bastions built on the rock, we saw
nothing but snow, large black atones, and bushes covered with frost.
The deserter needed only to keep still under the bushes; our lantern,
which shone only for fifteen or twenty feet, might have wandered about
till morning without discovering him: and we should ourselves have
supposed that he had escaped. But unfortunately for him, fear urged
him on, and we saw him in the distance running to the stairs which lead
up to the covered ways. He went like the wind.
"Halt! or I fire!" cried Winter; but he did not stop, and we all ran
together on his track, calling out "Halt! Halt!"
Winter had given me the lantern so as to run faster; I followed at a
distance, thinking to myself: "Moses, if this man is taken, thou will
be the cause of his death." I wanted to put out the lantern, but if
Winter had seen me he would have been capable of knocking me down with
the butt-end of his musket. He had for a long time been hoping for the
cross, and was all the time expecting it and the pension with it.
The deserter ran, as I said, to the stairs. Suddenly he perceived that
the ladder, which takes the place of the eight lower steps, was taken
away, and he stopped, stupefied! We came nearer--he heard us and began
to run faster, to the right toward the half-moon. The poor devil
rolled over the snow-banks. Winter aimed at him, and called out:
"Halt! Surrender!"
But he got up and began to run again.
Behind the outworks, under the drawbridge, we thought we had lost him:
the corporal called to me, "Come along! A thousand thunders!" and at
that moment we saw him leaning against the wall, as pale as death.
Winter took him by the collar and said: "I have got you!"
[Illustration: WINTER TOOK HIM BY THE COLLAR, AND SAID: "I HAVE YOU
NOW!"]
Then he tore an epaulette from his shoulder: "You are not worthy to
wear that!" said he; "come along!"
He dragged him out of his corner, and held the lantern before his face.
We saw a handsome boy of eighteen or nineteen, tall and slender, with
small, light mustaches, and blue eyes.
Seeing him there so pale, with Winter's fist at his throat, I thought
of the poor boy's father and mother; my heart smote me, and I could not
help Baying: "Come, Winter, he is a child, a mere child! He will not
do it again!"
But Winter, who thought that now surely his cross was won, turned upon
me furiously:
"I tell thee what, Jew, stop, or I will run my bayonet through thy
body!"
"Wretch!" thought I, "what will not a man do to make sure of his glass
of wine for the rest of his days?"
I had a sort of horror of that man; there are wild beasts in the human
race!
Chevreux, Somme, and Dubourg did not speak.
Winter began to walk toward the postern, with his hand on the
deserter's collar.
"If he stops," said he, "strike him on the back with your muskets! Ah,
scoundrel, you desert in the face of the enemy! Your case is clear:
next Sunday you will sleep under the turf of the half-moon! Will you
come on? Strike him with the butt-end, you cowards!"
What pained me most was to hear the poor fellow's heavy sighs; he
breathed so hard, from his fright at being taken, and knowing that he
would be shot, that we could hear him fifteen paces off; the sweat ran
down my forehead. And now and then he turned to me and gave me such a
look as I shall never forget, as if to say: "Save me!"
If I had been alone with Dubourg and Chevreux, we would have let him
go; but Winter would sooner have murdered him.
We came in this way to the foot of the postern. They made the deserter
pass first. When we reached the top, a sergeant, with four men from
the next station, was already there, waiting for us.
"What is it?" asked the sergeant.
"A deserter," said Winter.
The sergeant--an old man--looked at him, and said: "Take him to the
station."
"No," said Winter, "he will go with us to the station on the square."
"I will reinforce you with two men," said the sergeant.
"We do not need them," replied Winter roughly. "We took him ourselves,
and we are enough to guard him."
The sergeant saw that we ought to have all the glory of it, and he said
no more.
We started off again, shouldering our arms; the prisoner, all in
tatters and without his shako, walked in the midst.
We soon came to the little square; we had only to cross the old market
before reaching the guard-house. The cannon of the arsenal were firing
all the time; as we were starting to leave the market, one of the
flashes lighted up the arch in front of us; the prisoner saw the door
of the jail at the left, with its great locks, and the sight gave him
terrible strength; he tore off his collar, and threw himself from us
with both arms stretched out behind.
Winter had been almost thrown down, but he threw himself at once upon
the deserter, exclaiming, "Ah, scoundrel, you want to run away!"
We saw no more, for the lantern fell to the ground.
"Guard! guard!" cried Chevreux.
All this took but a moment, and half of the infantry post were already
there under arms. Then we saw the prisoner again; he was sitting on
the edge of the stairway among the pillars; blood was running from his
mouth; not more than half his waistcoat was left, and he was bent
forward, trembling from head to foot.
Winter held him by the nape of the neck, and said to Lieutenant
Schnindret, who was looking on: "A deserter, lieutenant! He has tried
to escape twice, but Winter was on hand."
"That is right," said the lieutenant. "Let them find the jailer."
Two soldiers went away. A number of our comrades of the National Guard
had come down, but nobody spoke. However hard men may be, when they
see a wretch in such a condition, and think, "the day after to-morrow
he will be shot!" everybody is silent, and a good many would even
release him if they could.
After some minutes Harmantier arrived with his woollen jacket and his
bunch of keys.