Part 9 (1/2)
”At Reichshoffen?”
”Yes, that is it: at Reichshoffen.”
”This man is exhausted,” said George: ”Catherine, bring some wine.” My wife took the bottle out of the cupboard and filled a gla.s.s; but the cuira.s.sier would not drink: he looked on the ground before him, as if something was before his eyes. What he had just told us made us turn pale.
”And,” said George, ”the cuira.s.siers charged?”
”Yes,” said the soldier, ”all of them.”
”Where is your regiment now?” He raised his head.
”My regiment? it is down there in the vineyards, amongst the hops, in the river....”
”What! in the river?”
”Yes: there are no more cuira.s.siers!”
”No more cuira.s.siers?” cried my cousin; ”the six regiments?”
”Yes, it is all over!” said the soldier, in a low voice: ”the grapeshot has mown them down. There are none left!”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”THE GRAPESHOT HAS MOWN THEM DOWN. THERE ARE NONE LEFT!”]
”Oh!” cried Placiard, ”now you see: what did I say? He is one of those villains who propagate false reports. Can six regiments be mown down?
Did you not yourself say, Monsieur le Maire, that those six regiments alone would bear down everything before them?”
I could answer nothing; but the perspiration ran down my face.
”You must lock him up somewhere, and let the gendarmes know,” continued Placiard. ”Such are the orders of Monsieur le Sous-prefet.”
The cuira.s.sier wiped with his sleeves the blood which was trickling upon his cheek; he appeared to hear nothing.
Out of all the open windows were leaning the forms of the village people, with attentive ears.
George and I looked at each other in alarm.
”You have blood upon you,” said my cousin, pointing to the soldier's cuira.s.s, who started and answered:
”Yes; that is the blood of a white lancer: I killed him!”
”And that wound upon your cheek?”
”That was given me with a sword handle. I got that from a Bavarian officer--it stunned me--I could no longer see--my horse galloped away with me.”
”So you were hand-to-hand?”
”Yes, twice; we could not use our swords: the men caught hold of one another, fought and killed one another with sword hilts.”
Placiard was again going to begin his exclamations, when George became furious: ”Hold your tongue, you abominable toady! Are you not ashamed of insulting a brave soldier, who has fought for his country?”