I was with the army that came up to that bridge at dawn, my friends. And
I was one of those who saw, floating in the first light above the ruined
walls of the old chateau, a flicker of glorious color.... A banner,
floating there....
Our skirmishers were flung across, pressing northward. Our engineers
swarmed upon the ruined bridge, rebuilding....
And one patrol of men turned aside, by the road that led toward the
chateau. They went to solve this riddle, gentlemen. They went to
discover who it was that had set there, the banner of France.
They went carefully, one man ahead, others behind. They feared a trap;
they did not understand....
I was with them. We came, thus, to a turn in the road; and we rounded
it, and we saw our advance man at the halt, upon his horse, in the road
ahead.
Toward this man were marching, down the road from the chateau, four men.
One of these men was tall, and strong, and bulky. And there was a scarf
about his chest; and the scarf was red. Of the others, two marched
proudly; two who had come unscathed through that hell where the chateau
had stood. And the fourth, though there was a smeared bandage about his
face and eyes, so that he held to the arm of Jacques Fontaine; this
fourth man, my friends, held his head as high as any; and his shoulders
were erect, and his steps were firm.
It was this fourth man who bore, resting it against his hip and
steadying it with his other hand, the flag. They came on, these four,
heads high. And though they were haggard, and stained, and worn, the
banner above them was unsullied and unsoiled....
As they came toward us, we could hear them singing, in cracked and
hoarse voices. Singing those immortal words of Rouget de l’Isle....
When they came near our vidette, where he sat his horse so quietly, they
halted. And I saw then that these men still wore the red trousers and
the blue coats of their ancient uniforms, which they had preserved for
this occasion through the years. And we were all very still as we
listened so that we heard the vidette challenge, in a ringing voice:
“Qui vive?”
There was, for me, something splendidly symbolic in the scene. For to
that challenge, those battered but unconquerable men gave answer with
one voice, one word.
“Qui vive?” the vidette challenged.
And the four answered hoarsely: “France!”