The campaign of Tonquin was in full swing. In the midst of an unknown
country, harassed by innumerable difficulties, the French soldiers were
contending painfully with an irrepressible, ever-rallying foe. The
smallest success served to excite the popular patriotism, and all
awaited impatiently the tidings of a decisive victory.
One morning, Auguste, looking very pale, entered his father's office,
and handed him a newspaper. There, amongst "Latest intelligence," Mons.
Sauvallier read the following:--
[Illustration: "LEADING THEM ON TO THE ASSAULT."]
"From the camp entrenched at Dong-Song. February 12th, 1885.--To-day,
Captain Sauvallier attacked the enemy with extreme vigour, fought all
the day against considerable forces, and captured successively three
redoubts. In attacking the last of the three, his soldiers, overpowered
by numbers, were about to retreat; but, although seriously wounded in
the head and thigh, the gallant officer, borne by two men, succeeded in
rallying his company and leading them on to the assault. His conduct was
admirable, but his condition is hopeless. I have attached the cross to
his breast. This brilliant feat of arms will enable me to enter Lang-Son
tomorrow.--GENERAL BRIERE DE L'ISLE."
Upon reading these words, Mons. Sauvallier felt a strange emotion, in
which anguish mingled with joy. For a moment he was silent; then he said
to his son, "You think that it is he? He is, then, a captain?"
He read the despatch again, then murmured softly: "The cross! Condition
hopeless!" And a tear rolled down his cheek.
Two hours later the family received a formal intimation of Camille's
deed and state from the Minister of War, and on the following day all
the journals were praising Captain Sauvallier, son of the respected
founder, of Grenelle. And now they gave details. Camille, it appeared,
had been nominated captain a few months back. Throughout the campaign he
had distinguished himself by his imperturbable coolness under fire, and
reckless scorn of the death which he seemed to seek.
His act of heroic energy stirred the enthusiasm of Press and populace,
and the name of Sauvallier was on every lip. Camille's portrait appeared
in the shop-windows; the illustrated journals depicted him before the
redoubt, carried upon the shoulders of two men, his sword pointed
towards the enemy, encouraging his soldiers by his voice, gesture, and
look, his forehead bound with a handkerchief, and his face bleeding.
Mons. Sauvallier could not go out of doors without seeing his son's
presentment. From the news-stalls of the boulevards, the corners of the
streets, the publishers' shop-fronts, a ubiquitous Camille watched him
pass, and seemed to follow him with his eyes. Almost at each step the
father received congratulations, while complimentary letters and cards
covered his table to overflowing. But, alas! the telegrams which he
received daily from Tonquin left him little hope that he should ever
again behold in the flesh this dear son, of whom now he was so proud.
[Illustration: "HERE HE IS!"]
One morning, three months later, Mons. Sauvallier was at work in his
office, when the door opened softly, and disclosed Andrée's curly head.
The little one seemed in high spirits, her eyes sparkled with glee.
"See, grandfather, here he is!" she said, and led into the room Captain
Sauvallier.
Auguste and his wife followed the pair. Mons. Sauvallier, taken
completely by surprise, rose quickly from his chair, then stood
motionless, overcome by his emotion. He saw before him Camille, with the
scar upon his forehead, and the cross upon his breast--Camille, the hero
of the hour, who had shed such lustre upon the family name!
Timid and embarrassed, like a child who has been guilty of a fault,
Camille stood with bowed head, and when he saw how much his father had
aged, he knew that it was his conduct which had wrought the sad change,
and his contrition was deepened tenfold.
But as he was about to throw himself at his father's feet, Mons.
Sauvallier, with a sudden movement, clasped him to his breast,
exclaiming, in a voice full of tears, "No, Camille! in my arms! in
my arms!"
Father and son, locked together in closest embrace, mingled their sobs,
while Auguste and his wife, looking on, wept in sympathy.
The silence was broken by Andrée. The child had vanished for a moment,
but speedily reappeared, fondling her precious doll, which, it is
needless to say, had not been sold. Holding it out to the captain, she
said in her liveliest manner: "Here is Jeanne, uncle! You remember her?
Give her a kiss directly! Don't you think that she has grown?"
* * * * *
_The Queer Side of Things--Among the Freaks._