Part 13 (1/2)

A silence of some duration followed upon the closing of the door. The two subalterns were as perplexed as Faversham to account for their hero's conduct. They sat dumb and displeased. Plessy stood for a moment thoughtfully, then he made a gesture with his hands as though to brush the whole incident from his mind and taking a cigarette from his case proceeded to light it at the candle. As he stooped to the flame he noticed the glum countenances of his brother-officers, and laughed carelessly.

”You are not pleased with me, my friends,” said he as he threw himself on to a couch which stood against the wall opposite to his companions.

”You think I did not speak the truth when I gave the reason of my refusal? Well you are right. I will give you the real reason why I would not fight. It is very simple. I do not wish to be killed. I know these white-faced, trembling men--there are no men more terrible. They may run away but if they do not, if they string themselves to the point of action--take the word of a soldier older than yourselves--then is the time to climb trees. To-morrow I would very likely kill our young friend, he would have had time to think, to picture to himself the little point of steel glittering towards his heart--but to-night he would a.s.suredly have killed me. But as I say I do not wish to be killed. You are satisfied?”

It appeared that they were not. They sat with all the appearances of discontent. They had no words for Captain Plessy. Captain Plessy accordingly rose lightly from his seat.

”Ah,” said he, ”my good friend the Lieutenant has after all left me my sword. The table too is already pushed sufficiently on one side.

There is only one candle to be sure, but it will serve. You are not satisfied, gentlemen? Then--” But both subalterns now hastened to a.s.sure Captain Plessy that they considered his conduct had been entirely justified.

THE DESERTER.

Lieutenant Fevrier of the 69th regiment, which belonged to the first brigade of the first division of the army of the Rhine, was summoned to the Belletonge farm just as it was getting dusk. The Lieutenant hurried thither, for the Belletonge farm opposite the woods of Colombey was the headquarters of the General of his division.

”I have been instructed,” said General Montaudon, ”to select an officer for a special duty. I have selected you.”

Now for days Lieutenant Fevrier's duties had begun and ended with him driving the soldiers of his company from eating unripe fruit; and here, unexpectedly, he was chosen from all the officers of his division for a particular exploit. The Lieutenant trembled with emotion.

”My General!” he cried.

The General himself was moved.

”What your task will be,” he continued, ”I do not known. You will go at once to the Mareschal's headquarters when the chief of the staff, General Jarras, will inform you.”

Lieutenant Fevrier went immediately up to Metz. His division was entrenched on the right bank of the Mosel and beyond the forts, so that it was dark before he pa.s.sed through the gates. He had never once been in Metz before; he had grown used to the monotony of camps; he had expected shuttered windows and deserted roads, and so the aspect of the town amazed him beyond measure. Instead of a town besieged, it seemed a town during a fairing. There were railway carriages, it is true, in the Place Royale doing duty as hospitals; the provision shops, too, were bare, and there were no horses visible.

But on the other hand, everywhere was a blaze of light and a bustle of people coming and going upon the footpaths. The cafes glittered and rang with noise. Here one little fat burgher was shouting that the town-guard was worth all the red-legs in the trenches; another as loudly was criticising the tactics of Bazaine and comparing him for his invisibility to a pasha in his seraglio; while a third sprang upon a table and announced fresh victories. An army was already on the way from Paris to relieve Metz. Only yesterday MacMahon had defeated the Prussians, any moment he might be expected from the Ardennes. Nor were they only civilians who shouted and complained. Lieutenant Fevrier saw captains, majors, and even generals who had left their entrenchments to fight the siege their own way with dominoes upon the marble tables of the cabarets.

”My poor France,” he said to himself, and a pa.s.ser-by overhearing him answered:

”True, monsieur. Ah, but if we had a man at Metz!”

Lieutenant Fevrier turned his back upon the speaker and walked on.

He at all events would not join in the criticisms. It was just, he reflected, because he had avoided the cafes of Metz that he was singled out for special distinction, and he fell to wondering what work it was he had to do that night. Was it to surprise a field-watch?

Or to spike a battery? Or to capture a convoy? Lieutenant Fevrier raised his head. For any exploit in the world he was ready.

General Jarras was writing at a table when Fevrier was admitted to his office. The Chief of the Staff inclined his lamp-shade so that the light fell full upon Fevrier's face, and the action caused the lieutenant to rejoice. So much care in the choice of the officer meant so much more important a duty.

”The General Montaudon tells me,” said Jarras, ”that you are an obedient soldier.”

”Obedience, my General, is the soldier's first lesson.”

”That explains to me why it is first forgotten,” answered Jarras, drily. Then his voice became sharp and curt. ”You will choose fifty men. You will pick them carefully.”

”They shall be the best soldiers in the regiment,” said Fevrier.

”No, the worst.”