We had not many provisions left; but, still, the next morning, as Safel
was going down to open the shop, I said to him:
"Stop, my child, take this little basket to M. Burguet; it is some
potatoes and salt beef. Take care that nobody sees it, they would take
it from you. Say that it is in remembrance of the poor deserter."
The child went. He told me that Burguet wept.
This, Fritz, is what must be seen in a blockade, where you are attacked
from day to day. This is what the Germans and Spaniards had to suffer,
and what we suffered in our turn. This is war!
Even the siege rations were almost gone; but Moulin, the commandant of
the place, having died of typhus, the famine did not prevent the
lieutenant-colonel, who took his place, from giving balls and fetes to
the envoys, in the old Thevenot house. The windows were bright, music
played, the staff-officers drank punch and warm wine, to make believe
that we were living in abundance. There was good reason for bandaging
the eyes of these envoys till they reached the very ball-room, for, if
they had seen the look of the people, all the punch-bowls and warm
wines in the world would not have deceived them.
All this time, the grave-digger Mouyot and his two boys came every
morning to take their two or three drops of brandy. They might say "We
drink to the dead!" as the veterans said "We drink to the Cossacks!"
Nobody in the city would willingly have undertaken to bury those who
had died of typhus; they alone, after taking their drop, dared to throw
the bodies from the hospital upon a cart, and pile them up in the pit,
and then they passed for grave-diggers, with Father Zebede.
The order was to wrap the dead in a sheet. But who saw that it was
done? Old Mouyot himself told me that they were buried in their cloaks
or vests, as it might be, and sometimes entirely naked.
For every corpse, these men had their thirty-five sous; Father Mouyot,
the blind man, can tell you so; it was his harvest.
Toward the end of March, in the midst of this fearful want, when there
was not a dog, and still less a cat, to be seen in the streets, the
city was full of evil tidings; rumors of battles lost, of marches upon
Paris, etc.
As the envoys had been received, and balls given in their honor,
something of our misfortunes became known either through the family or
the servants.
Often, in wandering through the streets which ran along the ramparts, I
mounted one of the bastions, looking toward Strasburg, or Metz, or
Paris. I had no fear then of stray balls. I looked forth upon the
thousand bivouac fires scattered over the plain, the soldiers of the
enemy returning from the villages with their long poles hung with
quarters of meat, at others crouched around the little fires which
shone like stars upon the edge of the forest, and at their patrols and
their covered batteries from which their flag was flying.
Sometimes I looked at the smoke of the chimneys at Quatre-Vents, or
Bichelberg, or Mittelbronn. Our chimneys had no smoke, our festive
days were over.
You can never imagine how many thoughts come to you, when you are so
shut up, as your eyes follow the long white highways, and you imagine
yourself walking there, talking with people about the news, asking them
what they have suffered, and telling them what you have yourself
endured.
From the bastion of the guard, I could see even the white peaks of the
Schneeberg; I imagined myself in the midst of foresters, wood-cutters,
and wood-splitters. There was a rumor that they were defending their
route from Schirmeck; I longed to know if it were true.
As I looked toward the Maisons-Rouges, on the road to Paris, I imagined
myself to be with my old friend Leiser; I saw him at his hearth, in
despair at having to support so many people, for the Russian, Austrian,
and Bavarian staff-officers remained upon this route, and new regiments
went by continually.
And spring came! The snow began to melt in the furrows and behind the
hedges. The great forests of La Bonne-Fontaine and the Barracks began
to change their tents.
The thing which affected me most, as I have often remembered, was
hearing the first lark at the end of March. The sky was entirely
clear, and I looked up to see the bird. I thought of little David, and
I wept, I knew not why.
Men have strange thoughts; they are affected by the song of a bird, and
sometimes, years after, the same sounds recall the same emotions, so as
even to make them weep.
At last the house was purified, and Zeffen and Sorle came back to it.
The time of the Passover drew near; and the floors must be washed, the
walls scoured, the vessels cleansed. In the midst of these cares, the
poor women forgot, in some measure, our affliction; but as the time
drew nearer our anxiety increased; how, in the midst of this famine,
were we to obey the command of God:
"This month shall be the first month of the year to you.
"In the tenth day of this month they shall take to them every man a
lamb, according to the house of their fathers, a lamb for a house.
"Ye shall take it out from the sheep or from the goats.
"And ye shall keep it until the fourteenth day of the same month.
"And they shall eat the flesh in that night, roast with fire, and
unleavened bread; and with bitter herbs shall they eat it."
But where was the sacrificial lamb to be found? Schmoule alone, the
old _schamess_, had thought of it for us all, three months before; he
had nourished a male goat of that year in his cellar, and that was the
goat that was killed.
Every Jewish family had a portion of it, small indeed, but the law of
the Lord was fulfilled.
We invited on that day, according to the law, one of the poorest of our
brethren, Kalmes. We went together to the synagogue; the prayers were
recited, and then we returned to partake of the feast at our table.
Everything was ready and according to the proper order, notwithstanding
the great destitution; the white cloth, the goblet of vinegar, the hard
egg, the horseradish, the unleavened bread, and the flesh of the goat.
The lamp with seven burners shone above it; but we had not much bread.
Having taken my seat in the midst of my family, Safel took the jug and
poured water upon my hands; then we all bent forward, each took a piece
of bread, saying with heavy hearts:
"This is the bread of affliction which our fathers ate in Egypt.
Whosoever is hungry, let him come and eat with us. Whosoever is poor,
let him come and make the Passover!"
We sat down again, and Safel said to me:
"What mean ye by this service, my father?"
And I answered:
"We were slaves in Egypt, my child, and the Lord brought us forth with
a mighty hand and an outstretched arm!"
These words inspired us with courage; we hoped that God would deliver
us as He had delivered our fathers, and that the Emperor would be His
right arm; but we were mistaken, the Lord wanted nothing more of that
man!