Part 25 (1/2)

”You are rejoining your corps?”

”Yes; the Sixth at Torgau.”

”And you came from?”----

”The hospital at Leipzig.”

”That is easily seen,” said he; ”you are fat as a beadle. They fed you on chickens down there, while we were eating cow-beef.”

I looked around at my sleeping neighbors. He was right; the poor conscripts were mere skin and bone. They were bronzed as veterans, and scarcely seemed able to stand.

The old man, in a moment, continued his questions:

”You were wounded?”

”Yes, veteran, at Lutzen.”

”Four months in the hospital!” said he, whistling; ”what luck! I have just returned from Spain, flattering myself that I was going to meet the _Kaiserliks_ of 1807 once more--sheep, regular sheep--but they have become worse than guerillas. Everything goes to the bad.”

He said the most of this to himself, without paying much attention to me, all the while sewing his shoe, which from time to time he tried on, to be sure that the sewn part would not hurt his foot. At last he put the thread in his knapsack, and the shoe upon his foot, and stretched himself upon a truss of straw.

I was too fatigued to sleep at once, and for an hour lay awake.

In the morning I set out again with the quartermaster Poitevin, and three other soldiers of Souham's division. Our route lay along the bank of the Elbe; the weather was wet and the wind swept fiercely over the river, throwing the spray far on the land.

We hastened on for an hour, when suddenly the quartermaster cried:

”Attention!”

He had halted suddenly, and stood listening. We could hear nothing but the sighing of the wind through the trees, and the splash of the waves; but his ear was finer than ours.

”They are skirmis.h.i.+ng yonder,” said he, pointing to a wood on our right. ”The enemy may be near us, and the best thing we can do is to enter the wood and pursue our way cautiously. We can see at the other end of it what is going on; and if the Prussians or Russians are there, we can beat a retreat without their perceiving us. If they are French, we will go on.”

We all thought the quartermaster was right; and, in my heart, I admired the shrewdness of the old drunkard. We kept on toward the wood, Poitevin leading, and the others following, with our pieces c.o.c.ked. We marched slowly, stopping every hundred paces to listen. The shots grew nearer; they were fired at intervals, and the quartermaster said:

”They are sharp-shooters reconnoitring a body of cavalry, for the firing is all on one side.”

It was true. In a few moments we perceived, through the trees, a battalion of French infantry about to make their soup, and in the distance, on the plain beyond, platoons of Cossacks defiling from one village to another. A few skirmishers along the edge of the wood were firing on them, but they were almost beyond musket-range.

”There are your people, young man,” said Poitevin. ”You are at home.”

He had good eyes to read the number of a regiment at such a distance.

I could only see ragged soldiers with their cheeks and famine-glistening eyes. Their great-coats were twice too large for them, and fell in folds along their bodies like cloaks. I say nothing of the mud; it was everywhere. No wonder the Germans were exultant, even after our victory at Dresden.

We went toward a couple of little tents, before which three or four horses were nibbling the scanty gra.s.s. I saw Colonel Lorain, who now commanded the Third battalion--a tall, thin man, with brown mustaches and a fierce air. He looked at me frowningly, and when I showed my papers, only said:

”Go and rejoin your company.”

I started off, thinking that I would recognize some of the Fourth; but, since Lutzen, companies had been so mingled with companies, regiments with regiments, and divisions with divisions, that, on arriving at the camp of the grenadiers, I knew no one. The men seeing me approach, looked distrustfully at me, as if to say:

”Does _he_ want some of our beef? Let us see what he brings to the pot!”