The Erckmann-Chatrian Megapack: 20 Classic Novels and Short Stories (159 page)

Then I had only just time to embrace my son, to press Nicolas’s hand, and to start at a sharp gallop for the gate of France. The drawbridge was just on the rise as I passed it; five minutes after I was galloping along the white high-road by moonlight, on the way to Metting. Outside on the glacis, there was not a sound; the pickets had been drawn, and the two regiments of cavalry were on the road to Saverne.

I arrived home late: everybody was asleep in our village. Nobody suspected what was about to happen within a week.

CHAPTER V

The whole way I thought of nothing but the cuirassiers. This order to march immediately appeared to me to betoken no good: something serious must have occurred; and as, upon the stroke of eleven, I was putting my horses up, after having put my cart under its shed, the idea came into my head that it was time now to hide my money. I was bringing back from Saverne sixteen hundred livres: this heavy leathern purse in my pocket was perhaps what reminded me. I remembered what Cousin George had said about Uhlans and other scamps of that sort, and I felt a cold shiver come over me.

Having, then, gone upstairs very softly, I awoke my wife: “Get up, Catherine.”

“What is the matter?”

“Get up: it is time to hide our money.”

“But what is going on?”

“Nothing. Be quiet—make no noise—Grédel is asleep. You will carry the basket: put into it your ring and your ear-rings, everything that we have got. You hear me! I am going to empty the ditch, and we will bury everything at the bottom of it.”

Then, without answering, she arose.

I went down to the mill, opened the back-door softly, and listened. Nothing was stirring in the village; you might have heard a cat moving. The mill had stopped, and the water was pretty high. I lifted the mill-dam, the water began to rush, boiling, down the gulley; but our neighbors were used to this noise even in their sleep, so all remained quiet.

Then I went in again, and I was busy emptying into a corner the little box of oak in which I kept my tools—the pincers, the hammer, the screw-driver, and the nails, when my wife, in her slippers, came downstairs. She had the basket under her arm, and was carrying the lighted lantern. I blew it out in a moment, thinking: Never was a woman such a fool.

Downstairs I asked Catherine if everything was in the basket.

“Yes.”

“Right. But I have brought from Saverne sixteen hundred francs: the wheat and the flour sold well.”

I had put some bran into the box; everything was carefully laid in the bottom; and then I put on a padlock, and we went out, after having looked to see if all was quiet in the neighborhood. The sluice was already almost empty; there was only one or two feet of water. I cleared away the few stones which kept the rest of the water from running out, and went into it with my spade and pickaxe as far as just beneath the dam, where I began to make a deep hole; the water was hindering me, but it was flowing still.

Catherine, above, was keeping watch: sometimes she gave a low “Hush!”

Then we listened, but it was nothing—the mewing of a cat, the noise of the running water—and I went on digging. If anyone had had the misfortune to surprise us, I should have been capable of doing him a mischief. Happily no one came; and about two o’clock in the morning the hole was three or four feet deep. I let down the box, and laid it down level, first stamping soil down upon it with my heavy shoes, then gravel, then large stones, then sand; the mud would cover all over of itself: there is always plenty of mud in a millstream.

After this I came out again covered with mud. I shut down the dam, and the water began to rise. About three o’clock, at the dawn of day, the sluice was almost full. I could have begun grinding again; and nobody would ever have imagined that in this great whirling stream, nine feet under water and three feet under ground, lay a snug little square box of oak, clamped with iron, with a good padlock on it, and more than four thousand livres inside. I chuckled inwardly, and said: “Now let the rascals come!”

And Catherine was well pleased too. But about four, just as I was going up to bed again, comes Grédel, pale with alarm, crying: “Where is the money!”

She had seen the cupboard open and the basket empty. Never had she had such a fright in her life before. Thinking that her marriage-portion was gone, her ragged hair stood upon end; she was as pale as a sheet. “Be quiet,” I said, “the money is in a safe place.”

“Where?”

“It is hidden.”

“Where?”

She looked as if she was going to seize me by the collar, but her mother said to her: “That is no business of yours.”

Then she became furious, and said, that if we came to die, she would not know where to find her marriage-portion.

This quarrelling annoyed me, and I said to her: “We are not going to die; on the contrary, we shall live a long while yet, to prevent you and your Jean Baptiste from inheriting our goods.”

And thereupon I went to bed, leaving Grédel and her mother to come to a settlement together.

All I can say is that girls, when they have got anything into their heads, become too bold with their parents, and all the excellent training they have had ends in nothing. Thank God, I had nothing to reproach myself with on that score, nor her mother either. Grédel had had four times as many blows as Jacob, because she deserved it, on account of her wanting to keep everything, putting it all into her own cupboard, and saying, “There, that’s mine!”

Yes, indeed, she had had plenty of correction of that kind: but you cannot beat a girl of twenty: you cannot correct girls at that age; and that was just my misfortune: it ought to go on forever!

Well, it can’t be helped.

She upset the house and rummaged the mill from top to bottom, she visited the garden, and her mother said to her, “You see, we have got it in a safe place; since you cannot find it, the Uhlans won’t.”

I remember that just as we were going up to sleep, that day, the 5th of August, early in the morning, Catherine and I had seen Cousin George in his char-à-banc coming down the valley of Dosenheim, and it seemed to us that he was out very early. The village was waking up; other people, too, were going to work: I lay down, and about eight o’clock my wife woke me to tell me that the postman, Michel, was there. I came down, and saw Michel standing in our parlor with his letter-bag under his arm. He was thoughtful, and told me that the worst reports were abroad; that they were speaking of the great battle near Wissembourg, where we had been defeated; that several maintained that we had lost ten thousand men, and the Germans seventeen thousand; but that there was nothing certain, because it was not known whence these rumors proceeded, only that the commanding officer of Phalsbourg, Taillant, had proclaimed that morning that the inhabitants would be obliged to lay in provisions for six weeks. Naturally, such a proclamation set people a-thinking, and they said: “Have we a siege before us? Have we gone back to the times of the great retreat and downfall of the first Emperor? Ought things forever to end in the same fashion?”

My wife, Grédel, and I, stood listening to Michel, with lips compressed, without interrupting him.

“And you, Michel,” said I, when he had done, “what do you think of it all?”

“Monsieur le Maire, I am a poor postman; I want my place; and if my five hundred francs a year were taken from me, what would become of my wife and children?”

Then I saw that he considered our prospects were not good. He handed me a letter from Monsieur le Sous-préfet—it was the last—telling me to watch false reports; that false news should be severely punished, by order of our préfet, Monsieur Podevin.

We could have wished no better than that the news had been false! But at that time, everything that displeased the sous-préfets, the préfets, the Ministers, and the Emperor, was false, and everything that pleased them, everything that helped to deceive people—like that peaceful Plébiscite—was truth!

Let us change the subject: the thought of these things turns me sick!

Michel went away, and all that day might be noticed a stir of excitement in our village; men coming and going, women watching, people going into the wood, each with a bag, spade, and pickaxe; stables clearing out; a great movement, and all faces full of care: I have always thought that at that moment every one was hiding, burying anything he could hide or bury. I was sorry I had not begun to sell my corn sooner, when my cousin had cautioned me a week before; but my duties as mayor had prevented me: we must pay for our honors. I had still four cart-loads of corn in my barn—now where could I put them? And the cattle, and the furniture, the bedding, provisions of every sort? Never will our people forget those days, when every one was expecting, listening, and saying: “We are like the bird upon the twig. We have toiled, and sweated, and saved for fifty years, to get a little property of our own; to-morrow shall we have anything left? And next week, next month—shall we not be starving to death? And in those days of distress, shall we be able to borrow a couple of liards upon our land, or our house? Who will lend to us? And all this on account of whom? Scoundrels who have taken us in.”

Ah! if there is any justice above, as every honest man believes, these abominable fellows will have a heavy reckoning to pay. So many miserable men, women, children await them there; they are there to demand satisfaction for all their sufferings. Yes, I believe it. But they—oh! they believe in nothing! There are, indeed, dreadful brigands in this world!

All that day was spent thus, in weariness and anxiety. Nothing was known. We questioned the people who were coming from Dosenheim, Neuviller, or from farther still, but they gave no answer but this: “Make your preparations! The enemy is advancing!”

And then my stupid fool of a deputy, Placiard, who for fifteen years did nothing but cry for tobacco licenses, stamp offices, promotion for his sons, for his son-in-law, and even for himself—a sort of beggar, who spent his life in drawing up petitions and denunciations—he came into the mill, saying, “Monsieur le Maire, everything is going on well—çamarche—the enemy are being drawn into the plain: they are coming into the net. To-morrow we shall hear that they are all exterminated, every one!”

And the municipal councillors, Arnold, Frantz, Sépel, Baptiste Dida, the wood-monger, came crowding in, saying that the enemy must be exterminated; that fire must be set to the forest of Haguenau to roast them, and so on! Every one had his own plan. What fools men can be!

But the worst of it was when my wife, having learned from Michel the proclamations in the town, went up into our bacon stores, to send a few provisions to Jacob; and she perceived our two best hams were missing, with a pig’s cheek, and some sausages which had been smoked weeks.

Then you should have seen her flying down the stairs, declaring that the house was full of thieves; that there was no trusting anybody; and Grédel, crying louder than she, that surely Frantz, that thief of a Badener, had made off with them. But mother had visited the bacon-room a couple of days after Frantz had left; she had seen that everything was straight; and her wrath redoubled.

Then said Grédel that perhaps Jacob, before leaving home, had put the hams into his bag with all the rest; but mother screamed, “It is a falsehood! I should have seen it. Jacob has never taken anything without asking for it. He is an honest lad.”

The clatter of the mill was music compared to this uproar: I could have wished to take to flight.

About seven my cousin came back upon his char-à-banc. He was returning from Alsace; and I immediately ran into his house to hear what news he had. George, in his large parlor, was pulling off his boots and putting on his blouse when I entered.

“Is that you, Christian?” said he. “Is your money safe?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. I have just heard fine news at Bouxviller. Our affairs are in splendid order! We have famous generals! Oh, yes! here is rather a queer beginning; and, if matters go on in this way, we shall come to a remarkable end.”

His wife, Marie Anne, was coming in from the kitchen: she set upon the table a leg of mutton, bread, and wine. George sat down, and whilst eating, told me that two regiments of the line, a regiment of Turcos, a battalion of light infantry, and a regiment of light horse, with three guns, had been posted in advance of Wissembourg, and that they were there quietly bathing in the Lauter, and washing their clothes, right in front of fifty thousand Germans, hidden in the woods; not to mention eighty thousand more on our right, who were only waiting for a good opportunity to cross the Rhine. They had been posted, as it were, in the very jaws of a wolf, which had only to give a snap to catch them, every one—and this had not failed to take place!

The Germans had surprised our small army corps the morning before; fierce encounters had taken place in the vines around Wissembourg; our men were short of artillery; the Turcos, the light-armed men, and the line had fought like lions, one to six: they had even taken eight guns in the beginning of the action; but German supports coming up in heavy masses had at last cut them to pieces; they had bombarded Wissembourg, and set fire to the town; only a few of our men had been able to retreat to the cover of the woods of Bitche going up the Vosse. It was said that a general had been killed, and that villages were lying in ruins.

It was at Bouxviller that my cousin had heard of this disaster, some of the light horsemen having arrived the same evening. There was also a talk of deserters; as if soldiers, after being routed, without knowledge of a woody country full of mountains, going straight before them to escape from the enemy, should be denounced as deserters. This is one of the abominations that we have seen since that time. Many heartless people preferred crying out that these poor soldiers had deserted rather than give them bread and wine: it was more convenient, and cheaper.