LITMIR.BIZ

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no longer there, and he could only espy the cannon which—as they rolled over this low level plain—looked larger than they really were, seeming not unlike dark grasshoppers with unusually long legs.

      After passing St. Etienne, however, the road became frightful; it ascended by gentle winding slopes through large barren fields dotted with little woods of pine trees, ever the same, and which, with their foliage of a blackish green, looked infinitely mournful amid the expanse of white soil. The troops had not passed through such a desolate scene before. Badly metalled, moreover, and softened by the last rains, the road was a perfect bed of mud, of liquefied grey argil, to which the feet adhered as to pitch. The fatigue of marching consequently became extreme, and the exhausted men no longer made way. As a crowning worry, violent showers suddenly began to fall. But little more was needed, and the artillery, which had stuck in the mire, would have remained there.

      Out of breath, and infuriated with his crushing burden, Chouteau, who was carrying some rice distributed to the squad, flung it away at a moment when he thought himself unobserved. But Loubet had seen him, and remarked: 'That's a dirty trick to play, for it means short commons for everyone.'

      'Humbug!' replied Chouteau; 'there's plenty of everything, so we can get some more when we halt.'

      Influenced by this specious reasoning, Loubet, who was carrying the bacon, rid himself of his burden in his turn.

      Meantime, as his heel had again become inflamed, Maurice experienced increasing suffering, and he dragged his leg along so painfully that Jean, becoming more and more solicitous concerning him, ventured to ask: 'Aren't you all right? Has it begun again?' Then, when a brief halt was ordered, just to give the men breathing time, he proffered some good advice: 'Take your shoes off and walk barefooted. The fresh mud will take the smarting away.'

      Indeed, in this fashion Maurice was able to keep up with the others without much difficulty; and he felt profoundly grateful to Jean. It was real luck that the squad should have such a corporal as that, a man who had served before, and who was up to all the tricks of the trade: an uncultured peasant, no doubt, but all the same a thorough good fellow.

      It was late when, after crossing the road from Châlons to Vouziers, and diving by a rapid descent into the ravine of Semide, they reached Contreuve, where they were to bivouac. The country was now changing; they were already in the Ardennes, and from the far-stretching, barren hills above the village, which were selected as the camping ground of the Seventh Corps, one could discern the valley of the Aisne afar off, obscured by the pale shower-laden clouds.

      At six o'clock, as Gaude had not yet sounded the call to rations, Jean, by way of occupying his time, and anxious, too, on account of the strong wind which was rising, determined to pitch the tent himself. He showed his men that they ought to select a somewhat sloping site, fix the pegs slantwise, and dig a little trench round the canvas for the rain-water to run into. On account of his foot Maurice was exempted from all fatigue duties, and he simply looked on, surprised at the intelligent skill which that sturdy, heavy-looking fellow Jean displayed. For his own part, he was physically overcome by fatigue, but his spirits were buoyed up by the hope that was now returning to every heart. They had done a terrible lot of marching since leaving Rheims, thirty-eight miles in two days. If they maintained the same speed, going straight before them, they must certainly succeed in overthrowing the second German army and joining hands with Bazaine, before the third one, under the Crown Prince of Prussia, who was said to be at Vitry-le-François, was able to reach Verdun.

      'Hallo! Are they going to let us die of hunger?' asked Chouteau, when seven o'clock came, and no rations had yet been distributed.

      Jean had prudently told Loubet to light a fire and set the large pot, full of water, on it; and as they had no wood he discreetly shut his eyes whilst Loubet, by way of procuring some, tore down several palings inclosing a neighbouring garden. When Jean began to talk, however, of cooking some rice and bacon, it became necessary to confess that the rice and bacon had remained behind, on the muddy road near St. Etienne. Chouteau lied with effrontery, swearing that the packet of rice must have slipped off his knapsack without his noticing it.

      'You pigs!' exclaimed Jean, infuriated, 'to throw food away when there are so many poor devils with their stomachs empty!'

      Then, too, with regard to the bread, the men had not listened to him at starting; and the three loaves fastened to the knapsacks had been thoroughly soaked by the showers, softened to such a degree that they were now like so much pap and quite uneatable. 'A nice pickle we're in!' repeated Jean; 'we had everything we wanted, and now we haven't even a crust! What hogs you fellows are!'

      Just then a bugle call summoned the sergeants to orders, and the melancholy-looking Sapin came in to inform the men of his section that, as no distribution of rations could take place, they must content themselves with their field supplies. The convoy, it was said, had remained behind on the road on account of the bad weather, and the drove of cattle had gone astray owing to conflicting orders. It was learnt, later on, that as the Fifth and Twelfth Corps had marched that day in the direction of Rethel, where head quarters were to be established, all the provisions in the villages, as well as the inhabitants, who were feverishly anxious to see the Emperor, had flowed towards that town; so that the country lying before the Seventh Corps was virtually drained of everything. There was no more meat, no more bread, and there were even no more people. To make the destitution complete, the commissariat supplies had been sent to Le Chêne Populeux through a misunderstanding. Great throughout the campaign was the despair of the wretched commissaries, against whom the soldiers were for ever crying out, though, often enough, their only fault was that they punctually reached appointed places where the troops never arrived.

      'Yes, you dirty pigs!' repeated Jean, quite beside himself, 'it serves you right! You are not deserving of the trouble I'm going to take to try and find something for you; because, after all, it's my duty not to let you kick the bucket on the road.' Thereupon he started on a journey of discovery, like every good corporal should do under the circumstances, taking with him Pache, whom he liked on account of his gentleness, though he considered him far too fond of priests.

      Meantime, Loubet had noticed a little farmhouse standing two or three hundred yards away, one of the last houses of Contreuve, where, it seemed to him, a good deal of business was being done. Calling Chouteau and Lapoulle, he said to them: 'Let us have a try. I fancy we can get some grub over there.'

      Maurice was left to mount guard over the pot of boiling water, with orders to keep the fire alight. He had seated himself on his blanket, with his shoe off so that the sore on his heel might dry. He was interested at the sight which the camp presented with all the squads at sixes and sevens since they had learnt that there would be no distribution of provisions. He became conscious that some of the troops were always short of everything, whilst others lived in abundance; in fact, it all depended on the foresight and skill of the corporals and the men. Amid the stir and bustle around him, he noticed, on glancing between the tents and the piles of arms, that some fellows had not even been able to light a fire, and that others, resigning themselves to circumstances, had already retired for the night; whilst others again, on the contrary, were eating, he could not tell what, but doubtless something nice, with keen appetite and relish. He was also struck by the beautiful order that prevailed among the reserve artillery encamped on a hill above him. As the sun set, it shone forth between two clouds, casting a glow over the guns, which the artillerymen had already carefully cleansed of all the mud that they had been splashed with during the march.

      Meantime the commander of the brigade, General Bourgain-Desfeuilles, had installed himself comfortably at the little farmhouse whither Loubet and his comrades had betaken themselves. The general had found a fairly good bed there, and was seated before an omelet and a roast fowl, which had put him in an excellent humour; and Colonel de Vineuil having come to speak to him respecting some matter of detail, he had invited him to stay and dine with him. So they both sat there eating, waited upon by a big, fair fellow, who had only been three days in the farmer's employ, and who declared himself to be an Alsatian refugee, carried away in the rout of Frœschweiler. The general talked openly in presence of this man, commented on the march of the troops, and then, forgetting that the fellow did not belong to the Ardennes, began questioning him respecting the roads and the distances.

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