Still they had to resign themselves to it, Maurice explaining that it would hardly be dangerous after being boiled. 'Then I'll go,' repeated Jean, taking Lapoulle with him.
Black night had fallen by the time the pot, full of meat and water, had been got on the fire. Loubet had peeled the beets to cook them in the broth; ''twould make a ragout fit for the other world,' he remarked. And they all of them urged on the flames, slipping the remnants of the barrow under the pot, whilst their big shadows danced about in a fantastic way in the depths of the rocky cavity. At last it became impossible for them to wait any longer, they threw themselves on the filthy broth and tore the meat to pieces with their trembling, clutching fingers, too impatient even to use Chouteau's little knife. But, despite all their efforts, their stomachs rose. It was the lack of salt that caused them the most disgust; their stomachs refused to retain that insipid, pappy beetroot, that half-cooked glutinous flesh with an argillaceous flavour. They almost immediately began to vomit. Pache could not go on eating, Chouteau and Loubet heaped insults on that brute of a horse which they had had so much trouble to kill, and which now made their stomachs ache. Lapoulle was the only one who dined copiously; however, he almost died of it during the night, after he had gone back with the three others to sleep under the poplars of the canal.
On the way, Maurice, catching hold of Jean's arm, had, without speaking, dragged him into a by-path. He felt furiously disgusted with his comrades, and had formed the plan of sleeping in the little wood where he had spent his first night on the peninsula. The idea was a good one, and Jean strongly approved of it when he stretched himself in the sloping soil, which he found quite dry, under the thick foliage. They remained there till it was broad daylight, falling even into a deep sleep which brought them back some strength.
The next day was Thursday, but they no longer knew how they were living, they simply felt pleased at observing that the fine weather seemed to have set in again. Despite Maurice's repugnance, Jean prevailed on him to return to the canal bank to see if their regiment would not leave the peninsula that morning. Every day now some of the prisoners, columns a thousand and twelve hundred strong, were being sent off to the German fortresses. A couple of days previously, in front of the Prussian guard-house, Jean had seen a convoy of officers and generals who were going to Pont-à-Mousson to take the train there. A feverish, furious longing to get away from that frightful Camp of Misery prevailed among one and all. Ah! if their own turn could only have come, thought Maurice and the corporal; and they were quite in despair when they found the 106th still encamped on the canal bank, in the growing disorder caused by so much suffering.
That day, however, they thought they would succeed in getting something to eat. Quite a trade had sprung up since the morning between the prisoners and the Bavarians on the other side of the canal. Money was flung to the latter in handkerchiefs, which were thrown back wrapped round some coarse brown bread or common damp tobacco. Even the prisoners who had no money managed to secure something by throwing over their white regulation gloves, which seemed to have taken the Bavarians' fancy. For a couple of hours this barbarous mode of exchange was kept up all along the canal, across which packets were continually flying. However, when Maurice flung over a five-franc piece, wrapped in his necktie, the Bavarian who sent him a loaf in exchange threw it in such a clumsy or tricky fashion that it fell flop into the water, whereat the Germans burst into a loud guffaw. Twice did Maurice repeat the experiment, and twice the loaf sent back to him dived into the canal. On hearing the roars of laughter which arose, some Bavarian officers ran up and prohibited their men from selling anything to the prisoners under penalty of severe punishment. The traffic then ceased, and Jean had to exert himself to calm Maurice, who was shaking his fists at those thieves yonder, shouting to them to throw him back his five-franc pieces.
In spite of its bright sunshine the day proved a terrible one. There were two alerts, two bugle calls, on hearing which Jean hastened to the shed, where rations were said to be distributed. But on both occasions, he only secured some digs in the ribs, during the scramble. The Prussians, so remarkably well organised themselves, continued displaying a brutal indifference with regard to the vanquished army. Generals Douay and Lebrun having protested against this inhuman treatment, they certainly sent a few sheep and some cart-loads of bread to the peninsula, but there was such an absence of method and precaution that the sheep were carried off and the carts ransacked as soon as they had crossed the bridge, so that the troops encamped more than a hundred yards away were no better off than before. In fact, the prowlers and pillagers were about the only ones who succeeded in filling their maws. Jean scented the trick, and ended by leading Maurice towards the bridge, so that they might wait and watch there for the arrival of provisions.
It was already four o'clock and they had as yet eaten nothing that lovely, sunshiny day, when all at once they were delighted to catch sight of Delaherche. A few of the townspeople of Sedan had, with great difficulty, obtained permission to go and see the prisoners, to whom they carried provisions; and Maurice had several times already expressed surprise at receiving no news of his sister. As soon as they espied Delaherche, carrying a large basket and with a loaf of bread tucked under either arm, they sprang forward to meet him, but once again they came up too late. Such was the rush, indeed, that the basket and one of the loaves vanished without the manufacturer himself being able to understand how they had been torn away from him.
Eager as he was for popularity, he had crossed the bridge with a smile on his lips and an air of affable good fellowship, but now he was altogether upset and stupefied. 'Ah! my poor friends,' he stammered.
Jean had already taken possession of the remaining loaf, and vigorously defended it; and whilst he and Maurice were devouring the bread by the roadside, Delaherche told them the news. His wife, thank Heaven! was very well; but he was anxious about the colonel, who had become extremely depressed, although Madame Delaherche, senior, continued keeping him company from morn till night.
'And my sister?' asked Maurice.