He rose, held
out his glass over the table and repeated: "France, the French,
their fields, their woods and their houses belong to us!"
The others, who were thoroughly intoxicated, suddenly shaken by
military enthusiasm, the enthusiasm of brutes, seized their glasses
and shouted vociferously: "Long live Prussia!" and emptied them
at a draught.
The girls did not protest, reduced to silence and frightened. Even
Rachel kept silent, unable to reply.
Then the little Markgraf placed on the head of the Jewess his glass
of Champaign, refilled, and said—"The women of France belong to
us!"
She jumped up so quickly that the glass was upset and spilled the
yellow wine in her black hair, as for a baptism; it fell broken to
pieces on the floor. Her lips quivering, she looked defiantly at
the officer; the latter kept laughing; she stammered in a voice
choked with rage: "That, that is not true! you shall never have
the women of France!"
He sat down to laugh at his ease and tried to imitate the Parisian
accent: "That is a good one! that is a good one! And what are
you doing here, you little one?"
Confused, at first, she did not answer, as she did not, in her
excitement, understand fully what he said; then, as soon as the
meaning of it dawned on her mind, she shouted at him indignantly
and vehemently: "I, I, I am not a woman! I am a prostitute! and
that is all a Prussian deserves!"
Hardly had she finished, that he slapped her face violently; but,
as he was raising his hand again, maddened with rage she caught on
the table a small silver-bladed dessert knife, and so quickly that
nobody noticed it, she stabbed him right in the neck, just at the
hollow where the breast begins.
A word, that he was about to mutter, was cut short in his throat,
and he remained stiff, with his mouth open and a frightful look.
All shouted and got up tumultuously; but having thrown her chair
in the legs of Lieutenant Otto, who collapsed and fell down at full
length, she ran to the window, opened it before they could catch
her, and jumped out in the night, under the rain that was still
falling.
In two minutes Mademoiselle Fifi was dead. Then Fritz and Otto drew
their swords and wanted to massacre the women, who threw themselves
to their knees; the Major, not without difficulty, prevented the
butchery and had the four bewildered girls locked up in a room
and guarded by two soldiers; and then, as if he were disposing his
men for battle, he organized the search for the fugitive[*], quite
certain that he would catch her.
[*][Note from Brett: The original uses "fugutive," but, again, I
think this is a typographical error as there is no such word.]
Fifty men, whipped by threats, were launched on her trail in the
park; two hundred others searched the woods and all the houses of
the Valley.
The table, cleared in an instant, was turned into a mortuary bed,
and the four officers, straight, rigid and sobered up, with the
harsh faces of warriors on duty stood near the windows, searching
and scanning the night.
The torrential rain was continuing. An incessant rippling filled
the darkness, a floating murmur of water that falls and water that
runs, water that drops and water that gushes forth.
Suddenly a rifle shot was heard; then another far away; and thus
for four hours one heard from time to time, near or distant reports
of firing and rallying cries, strange words shouted like a call by
guttural voices.
At daybreak everybody returned. Two soldiers had been killed and
three others wounded by their comrades in the eagerness of the
chase and the confusion of the nocturnal pursuit.
They had not been able to find Rachel.
Then the inhabitants were terrorized, the houses searched most
carefully, the whole region combed, beaten, scoured. The Jewess
did not seem to have left any trace of her passage.
The General, who had been notified, ordered to hush the matter up
so as not to give a bad example in the Army, and he disciplined
the Commander who, in turn, punished his subordinates. The General
had said: "We do not go to war to indulge in orgies and caress
prostitutes." And exasperated Graf Farlsberg resolved to take
revenge on the country.
As he needed a pretext to take drastic measures without constraint,
he summoned the Priest and ordered him to ring the Church bell at
the burial of Markgraf von Eyrik.
Contrary to general expectation, the priest showed himself docile,
humble, full of attention. And when the body of Mademoiselle Fifi,
carried by soldiers, preceded, surrounded and followed by soldiers,
who marched with loaded rifles, left the Chateau d'Urville, on the
way to the cemetery, for the first time the bell sounded the knell
in a gay tone, as if a friendly hand had been fondling it.
It rang also in the evening, and the next day and every day;
it chimed as much as they wanted. Sometimes also, in the dead of
night, it would ring all alone and throw two or three notes in the
darkness, seized by a singular mirth, awakened one knew not why.
All the peasants in the neighborhood then thought that the bell had
been bewitched; and no one except the Priest and the Sexton came
near the bell-tower.
A poor girl was living up there, in fear and solitude, secretly
fed by those two men.
She remained there until the German troops departed. Then, one
evening, the Priest having borrowed the baker's cart, drove himself
and the prisoner as far as the Gate of Rouen. When they reached
the Gate, the Priest kissed her; she got off the cart and quickly
went back to the disreputable house, the keeper of which had thought
that she was dead.
She was taken out of the house of prostitution shortly afterwards
by a patriot without prejudice, who loved her for her brave act,
and then, having loved her for herself, married her and made of
her a lady as good as many others.
Boule de Suif
For several days in succession the remnants of a routed army had been
passing through the City. They were not troops, but disorganized
hordes. The men had long, dirty beards and tattered uniforms; they
walked with a listless gait, without flag nor formation. All seemed
exhausted, worn out, incapable of thought or resolve, marching
only by force of habit and dropping with fatigue as soon as they
stopped. One saw for the most part hastily mobilized men, peaceful
business men and rentiers, bending under the weight of their rifles;
young snappy volunteers, easily scared, but full of enthusiasm,
ready to attack as well as to retreat; then, among them, a few
red trousers, fragments of a division decimated in a great battle;
despondent artillery men aligned with these non-descript infantrymen;
and there and there the shining helmet of a heavy footed dragon
who had difficulty in keeping step with the quicker pace of the
soldiers of the line.
Legions of francs-tireurs with heroic names: "Avengers of
Defeat"—"Citizens of the Tombs"—"Brothers in Death"—passed in
their turn looking like bandits.
Their leaders, former drapers or grain merchants, tallow or soap
dealers, warriors for the circumstance, who had been commissioned
officers on account of their money or the length of their mustaches;
covered with arms, flannel and stripes, they were talking in
a high-sounding voice, discussing plans of campaign, and claiming
that they alone supported on their shoulders agonizing France; as
a matter of fact, these braggarts were afraid of their own men,
scoundrels often brave to excess, but always ready for pillage and
debauch.
It was rumored that the Prussians were going to enter Rouen.
The National Guard who, for the past two months, had been very
carefully reconnoitering in the neighboring woods, at times shooting
their own sentries and getting ready to fight when a little rabbit
rustled in the bushes, had been mustered out and returned to their
homes. Their arms, uniforms, all their deadly apparel, with which
they had recently frightened the milestones along the national
highways for three leagues around, had suddenly disappeared.
The last of the French soldiers had just crossed the Seine to go
to Pont-Andemer by Saint Sever and Bourg-Achard; and following them
all, their general, desperate, unable to attempt anything with such
non-descript wrecks, himself dismayed in the crushing debacle of a
people accustomed to conquer and now disastrously defeated despite
their legendary bravery, was walking between two orderlies.
Then a profound calm, a trembling and silent expectancy hovered over
the City. Many corpulent well to do citizens, emasculated by the
business life they had led, were anxiously waiting for the victors,
fearing lest they might consider as weapons their roasting spits
or their large kitchen knives.
Life seemed to be at a standstill; the shops were closed and the
streets silent and deserted. Sometimes a citizen, intimidated by
this silence, ran rapidly along the walls.
The anguish of suspense made the citizens desire the arrival of
the enemy.
In the afternoon of the day that followed the departure of the
French troops, a few Uhlans, coming from no one knew where, crossed
the City in a hurry. Then, a little later, a black mass came down
the Ste. Catherine Hill, while two other invading waves appeared
on the Darnetal and Boisguillame roads. The vanguards of the three
corps made their junction at precisely the same time in the Hotel
de Ville Square; and, by all the neighboring roads, the German Army
was arriving, rolling its battalions that made the pavements ring
under their heavy and well measured steps.
Orders shouted in an unknown and guttural voice, rose along the
houses which seemed dead and deserted, while behind the closed
shutters, eyes watched these victorious men, masters of the City,
of property and life by the right of war. The inhabitants, in
their darkened rooms, felt the bewilderment caused by cataclysms,
the great bloody upheavals of the earth against which all human
wisdom and force are of no avail. For the same feeling reappears
whenever the established order of things is upset, when security
ceases to exist, when all that is protected by the laws of men
or those of protected nature, is at the mercy of unreasoning and
ferocious brutality. The earthquake crushing a whole nation under
crumbling houses; the overflowing river swirling the bodies of
drowned peasants along with the dead oxen and the beams torn away
from the roofs, or the glorious army massacring those who defend
themselves, taking away the others as prisoners, pillaging in the
name of the sword and offering thanks to God to the thunder of the
guns, are as many appalling scourges which disconcert any belief
in eternal justice, all the trust we were taught to place in the
protection of heaven and the reason of man.
Small detachments knocked at each door and then disappeared in the
houses. It was occupation after invasion. Now the vanquished had
to show themselves nice to their conquerors.
After a while, once the first terror had abated, a new tranquility
settled down. In many houses the Prussian Officer took his meals
with the family. Some were well bred, and out of politeness, showed
sympathy for France and spoke of their reluctance to participate
in the war. People were grateful for such sentiments; furthermore,
they might have needed their protection any day.
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