Kitabı oku: «The Frontier», sayfa 11

CHAPTER II
THEY WHO GO TO THEIR DEATH

Philippe went downstairs as soon as he was dressed. He found all the servants gathered in the hall, discussing the news. Victor confirmed it: he had come straight from Noirmont.

Moreover, the postman had heard from a gendarme that the railway-station at the sub-prefecture was occupied by soldiers. He himself, when he left Saint-Élophe, had seen army telegraphists on duty in the post-office.

These hasty measures fitted in with the rejection of the ultimatum and went to prove the imminence of the dreaded catastrophe.

Philippe could not help saying:

"That means war."

"It's what I've been shouting from the house-tops for the last two days!" proclaimed Victor, who seemed greatly excited. "Oughtn't we to make preparations, here? At two steps from the frontier?"

But a bell rang. Catherine ran to the drawing-room, where Mme. Morestal appeared:

"Where were you? I have been looking for you. Hasn't the doctor been? Oh, there you are, Philippe! Quick, telephone to the doctor…"

"Is my father …?"

"Your father is better; but, all the same, he's sleeping longer than he ought… It may be the morphia… You had better telephone."

She left the room. Philippe was taking down the receiver, when some one tapped him on the shoulder. It was Victor, whose excitement was increasing every moment and who asked him with a perplexed air:

"What are we to do, M. Philippe? Are we going to stay here? Or go away and shut up the house? The mistress does not realize …"

And, without waiting for the answer, he turned round:

"Isn't it so, Catherine, the mistress does not realize… The master's quite well again… Well, then, they should make up their minds!.."

"Of course, one must be prepared for everything," said the maid-servant. "Suppose the enemy invade us?"

They both of them walked up and down the drawing-room, opening the doors, shutting them again, making gestures through the window.

An old woman entered, an old woman who was employed at the Old Mill as a charwoman. She waved her arms about:

"Is it true? Is it true? Are we going to war? And my son, the youngest, who is with his regiment?.. And the other, who is in the reserve?.. Is it true? No, tell me it's not true! It's all nonsense they're talking!"

"Nonsense, indeed!" said the gardener's wife, appearing on the scene. "You'll soon see if it's nonsense!.. They'll all have to go … my husband too, who's in the reserve of veterans."

She was accompanied by a child of three or four years old and in her arms carried another, in swaddling-clothes, who was whimpering.

"Of course they'll have to go," said Victor. "And what about me? You'll see, they'll call me to the colours, though I'm past the age!.. You'll see!.."

"You as well as the rest," grinned the gardener, who now entered in his turn. "As long as one can hold a rifle… But our eldest, Henriot, who's sixteen: do you think they'll forget him?"

"Oh, as for him," scolded the mother, "I shall hide him if they try to take him from me!"

"And what about the gendarmes?"

All were gesticulating and talking together. And Victor repeated:

"Meantime, we had better be off. Shut up the house and go. That's the wisest. We can't remain here like this, at two steps from the frontier."

In his eyes, war represented the disordered flight of the old men and the women, running away in herds and pushing before them carts loaded with furniture and bedding. And he stamped his foot, resolved upon making an immediate move.

But a great hullabaloo arose on the terrace. A little farm-labourer came rushing into the drawing-room:

"He's seen some! He's seen some!"

He was running in front of his employer, Farmer Saboureux, who arrived like a whirlwind, with his eyes starting out of his head:

"I've seen some! I've seen some! There were five of them! I've seen some!"

"Seen what? Seen what?" said Victor, shaking him. "What have you seen?"

"Uhlans!"

"Uhlans! Are you sure?"

"As I see you now! There were five of them on horseback! Oh, I knew them again … it wasn't the first time!.. Uhlans, I tell you!.. They'll burn everything down!"

Mme. Morestal came running up at the noise which he made:

"Do be quiet! What's the matter with you?"

"I've seen some!" yelled Saboureux. "Uhlans! They've gone off to fetch the others."

"Uhlans!" she gasped in dismay.

"Yes, like last time!"

"Oh, heaven! Is it possible?"

"I saw them, I say… Go and tell monsieur le maire."

She lost her temper:

"Tell him? But he's ill!.. And be quiet, you, I've had enough of it… Philippe, is the doctor coming?"

Philippe put down the telephone:

"The line is engaged by the military, it's not available for private communications."

"Oh, but this is terrible!" said the old lady. "What's to become of us?"

She thought only of Morestal, confined to his room, and of the inconvenience which he would suffer through this state of things.

A bicycle-bell was heard outside.

"Ah!" cried the gardener, leaning out of the window on the garden side. "There's my boy coming… How the rascal is growing! And you think, mother, that they'll leave him at home to pluck the geese? A sharp lad like that?.."

A few seconds later, the boy was in the drawing-room. Breathless, staggering, he reeled back against the table and blurted out, in a hollow voice:

"It's … war!.."

Philippe, who retained some hope in spite of everything, flew at him:

"War?"

"Yes … it's declared…"

"By whom?"

"They didn't say."

And Saboureux, seized with fresh anger, stuttered:

"Of course!.. I said so!.. I saw the Uhlans … there were five of them."

There was a stir among the servants. All rushed to meet a new arrival, Gridoux, the official game-keeper, who came prancing along the terrace, brandishing a stick. He pushed them aside:

"Don't bother me!.. I've a message to give! Where's monsieur le maire? He must come at once! They're waiting for him!"

He seemed furious at not finding the Mayor of Saint-Élophe there, ready to go back with him.

"Not so loud, not so loud, Gridoux," Mme. Morestal ordered. "You'll wake him up."

"He's got to be woke up. I've been sent from the town-hall… He's got to come at once."

Philippe laid hold of him:

"Stop that noise, I tell you, hang it all! My father is ill."

"That doesn't matter. I've got the butcher's cart… I'll take him with me straight away, as he is."

"But it's impossible," moaned Mme. Morestal. "He's in bed."

"That doesn't matter… There's orders to be given… There's a whole company of soldiers … soldiers from the manœuvres… The town-hall is upside down… He's the only one to put things right."

"Nonsense! Where are his deputies? Arnauld? Walter?"

"They've lost their heads."

"Who's at the town-hall?"

"Everybody."

"The parish-priest?"

"A milksop!"

"The parson?"

"An ass! There's only one man who isn't crying like the others… But M. Morestal would never consent… They're not friends."

"Who is that?"

"The school-master."

"Let them obey him, then!.. The school-master will do!.. Let him give orders in my husband's name."

The wish to save Morestal any annoyance gave her a sudden authority. And she pushed everybody out, to the stairs, to the hall:

"There, go away, all of you… Gridoux, go back to the town-hall…"

"Yes, that's it," said Saboureux, gripping the gamekeeper's arm, "go back to Saint-Élophe, Gridoux, and send the soldiers to me, eh? Let them defend me, hang it all! The Uhlans will burn down everything, my house, my barn!"

They all went out in high excitement. Philippe was able for a long time to distinguish Farmer Saboureux's exclamations through the garden window. And the picture of all those anxious, noisy people, drunk with talk and action, rushing from side to side in obedience to unreasoning impulses, that picture suggested to him a vision of the great mad crowds which the war was about to let loose like the waves of a sea.

"Come on," he said. "It's time to act."

He took a railway-guide from the table and turned up the station at Langoux. The new strategic line passed through Langoux, the line which follows the Vosges and runs down to Belfort and Switzerland. He found that he could reach Bâle and sleep at Zurich that same evening.

He stood up and looked around him, with his heart wrung at the thought of going away like that, without bidding good-bye to any one. Marthe had not answered his letter and remained invisible. His father had turned him out and would never forgive him. He must go away by stealth, like a malefactor. "Well," he murmured, thinking of the act which he was on the point of accomplishing, "it's better so. In any case and in spite of everything, I was bound, now that war has been declared, to appear a miscreant and a renegade in my father's eyes. Have I the right to rob him of the least affectionate word?"

Mme. Morestal came up from the garden and he heard her moaning:

"War! Oh, heaven, war, like last time! And your poor father forced to keep his bed! Ah, Philippe, it's the end of all things!"

She shifted a few chairs in their places, wiped the table-cover with her apron and, when the drawing-room seemed tidy to her eyes, went to the door:

"Perhaps he is awake… What will he want to do, when he hears?.. If only he keeps quiet! A man of his age …"

Philippe went up to her, in an instinctive burst of confidence:

"You know I'm going, mother?"

She replied:

"You're going? Well, yes, you are right. I dare say I shall persuade Marthe to come back to you…"

He shook his head:

"I'm afraid not…"

"Yes, yes," she declared, "Marthe loves you very much. And then there are the children to bring you together. Leave it to me… The same with your father: don't be alarmed… Everything will smooth down in time between the two of you. Go, my boy… Write to me often…"

"Won't you kiss me, mother?"

She kissed him on the forehead, a quick, cold kiss that revealed her lingering bitterness.

But, as she was opening the door, she stopped, reflected and said:

"You are going back to Paris, are you not? To your own place?"

"Why do you ask, mother?"

"An idea that came to me, that's all. My head is in such a state, because of your father, that I did not think of it before…"

"What idea? Can you tell me?"

"About this war… But, no, as a professor, you're exempt, aren't you?"

He understood her fears and, as he was unable to reassure her by confessing his secret intentions, he did not enlighten her further:

"Yes," he said, "I'm exempt."

"Still, you spent some time in the reserve?"

"Only at the government offices. And that's where we serve in time of war."

"Oh," she said, "that's all right, that's all right!.. Else I should have been very anxious… You see, the mere thought that you might be fighting … that you might be wounded … oh, it would be horrible!"

She drew him to her with a sort of violence that delighted Philippe and kissed him as he had longed to be kissed. He was nearly saying:

"Do you understand, mother darling?.. Do you understand what I was trying to do, the other day? Thousands and thousands of mothers will be made to shed tears… Great as our private troubles are, they will pass. Those which begin to-morrow will never pass. Death is irreparable."

But why waste words? Did not his mother's emotion prove him absolutely right?

They remained for a few moments locked in each other's embrace and the old lady's tears fell upon Philippe's cheeks.

At last, she said:

"You are not going at once, are you?"

"As soon as I have packed my bag."

"What a hurry you are in! Besides, there's no train yet. No, I want to kiss you once more and to make sure that you have all you want. And then it's impossible for you and Marthe to part like this. I will speak to her presently. But I must go to your father first: he may want me…"

He went with her as far as the sick man's room and, as she had taken from a cupboard a pile of towels that filled her arms, she said:

"Open the door for me, will you?"

Then he saw his father at the other end of the room, lying lifeless, very pale in the face, and Suzanne sitting at the foot of the bed. He clearly distinguished the red scratches on her cheeks and chin.

"Shut the door, Suzanne," said Mme. Morestal, when she was inside.

Suzanne did so. As she approached, she saw Philippe in the dusk of the passage. She did not make a movement nor give a start; and she closed the door upon him as though he had not been there.

"She too," thought Philippe, "she too will never forgive me, any more than my father or Marthe."

And he resolved to go away at once, now that his mother's affection had given him a little comfort.

He found Victor at the foot of the garden-steps, indulging in lamentations in the midst of the other servants and recommending immediate flight:

"We can pack up the plate, the clocks, the valuables in an hour and be off… When the enemy arrive, they will find no one here…"

Philippe called him and asked if it was possible to get a carriage at Saint-Élophe:

"Oh, are you going, sir? You are quite right. But not just yet, are you? Presently, I suppose, with Mme. Philippe? I've orders to drive Mme. Philippe to Saint-Élophe. From there, there's the diligence that goes to Noirmont."

"No, I am not going in that direction."

"How do you mean, sir? There's only one line to Paris."

"I sha'n't go straight to Paris. I want to take the train at Langoux."

"The new line to Switzerland? But that's an endless journey, sir! It goes all the way down to Belfort."

"Yes, that's it. How far is it from Saint-Élophe to Langoux?"

"Three miles and a bit."

"In that case, I shall walk," said Philippe. "Thank you."

He was in a hurry to leave the Old Mill, for he felt that events were hastening to a crisis and that, at any moment, he might be prevented from carrying out his plan.

As a matter of fact, when he turned back, he was passed by Henriot, the gardener's son, who was clapping his hands:

"There they are! The soldiers of the manœuvring company!.. They are going to the Col du Diable, at the quick step. We shall see them from the terrace."

He was followed by the other servants, by his mother, by his little brother, who, like himself, was waving his hands; and they all crossed the drawing-room.

Philippe went to the edge of the terrace. The troops were already debouching in good order. They were young soldiers, beardless boys for the most part, and looked almost like children amusing themselves by marching in file. But he saw an unaccustomed expression of anxiety and doubt on their faces. They marched in silence, hanging their heads and as though bent by the fatigue of the recent manœuvres.

A word of command sounded in the rear and was repeated in a sharp voice by two non-commissioned officers. There was a momentary undulating movement. Then the column proceeded at the double down the slope that led to the Étang-des-Moines.

And, when the last ranks had filed off below the terrace, two officers appeared, followed by a bugler. One of the two sprang briskly from his horse, flung the reins to the bugler and ran up the staircase, shouting:

"I'll be with you presently, Fabrègues… Meet me in the Col du Diable… Take up your position at Saboureux's Farm."

On reaching the terrace, he raised his hand to his cap:

"Can I see M. Morestal, please?"

Philippe stepped forward:

"My father is laid up, captain."

The officer was obviously affected by the news:

"Oh!" he said. "I was relying on M. Morestal. I have had the pleasure of making his acquaintance and he spoke to me of the Old Mill… I now see what he meant. The position is really excellent. But, for the moment, monsieur, would you mind?.. I know you are on the telephone here and I have an urgent message… Excuse me … it is such a serious time…"

Philippe took him to the telephone. The officer pressed the button impatiently and, as he did not receive a reply at once, turned round:

"Meanwhile, allow me to introduce myself … Captain Daspry… I met your father in connection with a rather funny incident, the slaughter of Farmer Saboureux's fowls… Hullo! Hullo! Gad, how difficult it is to get put on!.. Hullo! Hullo!.. I even shocked M. Morestal by refusing to punish the culprit, one Duvauchel, an incorrigible anti-militarist… An excuse like that would just have served the beggar's turn…"

He had a rather vulgar type of face and a complexion that was too red; but his frank eyes and his gaiety of manner made him exceedingly attractive. He began to laugh:

"To show his gratitude, Duvauchel promised me, this morning, to turn his back on the enemy, at the first shot, and to desert… He has a chauffeur's place reserved for him in Switzerland… And, as Duvauchel says, 'There's nothing like a French greaser.'… Hullo!.. Ah, at last!.. Hullo! Captain Daspry speaking… I want the military post at Noirmont… Yes, at once, please… Hullo!.. Is that Noirmont? The military post? I want Major Dutreuil… Switch me on to him… It's urgent."

Captain Daspry ceased. Instinctively, Philippe took up the other receiver:

"May I?"

"Oh, certainly!.."

And Philippe heard the following dialogue, with its swift and anxious questions and answers:

"Is that you, Daspry?"

"Yes, major."

"Did the cyclists catch you up?"

"Which cyclists?"

"I sent three after you."

"I've seen nothing of them so far. I'm at Morestal's."

"The Old Mill?"

"Yes, major … I wrote to you about it."

"Well, what is it, Daspry?"

"Uhlans have been seen in the Col du Diable."

"Yes, I know. The Börsweiler cavalry are on the march."

"What!"

"They will cross the frontier in an hour from now, supported by two regiments of infantry."

"What!"

"That's what I sent my cyclists to tell you. Get to the Col du Diable as fast as you can."

"My men are there, major. As soon as the enemy arrives, we will fall back, keeping in touch with them as we do so."

"No."

"Eh? But I can't do otherwise, I have only my company."

"You must stand your ground, Daspry. You must stand your ground for two hours and a half or three hours. My battalion has just left barracks. The 28th are following us by forced marches. We shall be at the frontier by two o'clock in the afternoon. You must stand your ground."

"But I say, major!"

"You must stand your ground, Daspry."

With a mechanical movement, the officer drew himself up, brought his heels together and replied:

"We shall stand our ground, major."

He replaced the receiver and thought for a few minutes. Then he said, with a smile:

"By Jove, that's a nice beginning! Two hundred men against some thousands … for three hours! If one of the 4th company remains alive, he'll be a lucky man…"

"But it's madness!" Philippe protested.

"Monsieur, the Alpine Rifles and the 28th of the line are on their way; and Dornat's division is certainly behind them. If they arrive too late, if the ridges of the Vosges are taken, if the frontier is crossed, if the Saint-Élophe valley is occupied and all this on the very day on which war is declared, you can imagine the consternation which this first check will produce all over France. If, on the other hand, a handful of men sacrifice themselves … and succeed, the moral effect will be incalculable. I shall stand my ground for three hours, monsieur."

The words were spoken simply, with the profound conviction of a man who realizes the full importance of his act. He was already on his way down the stone steps. Saluting Philippe, he added:

"You can congratulate M. Morestal, monsieur. He is a far-seeing Frenchman. He foresaw everything that is happening. Let us hope that it is not too late."

He leapt into the saddle, spurred his horse and set off at a gallop.

Philippe followed him with his eyes as far as the Étang-des-Moines. When the officer had disappeared behind a dip in the ground, he gave way to an angry movement and muttered:

"Play-acting!"

However, he turned the telescope on the Col du Diable and saw soldiers all around Saboureux's Farm, running, scrambling up the rocks on every side with the agility of young goats. He reflected that they had forgotten their weariness and seemed to be diverting themselves with an exercise to which each contributed his own effort, his individual tactics and his qualities of self-reliance and initiative.

He stood pensive for a few minutes. But time was pressing. He called Victor and went up to his room:

"Quick, my bag."

They stuffed the papers and manuscripts into it promiscuously, together with a little linen and the toilet-articles. The bag was strapped up. Philippe seized it:

"Good-bye, Victor. Tell my mother I sent her my love."

He crossed the landing. But some one darted out of an adjacent room. It was Marthe. She barred his way:

"Where are you going?" she asked.