The Downfall (La Débâcle): A Story of the Horrors of War

by Émile Zola

'Your sister, ah yes! She came with me, it was she who brought the two loaves. Only she had to stay yonder, on the other side of the canal. Beg as we might, the sentries would not let her pass. The Prussians, you know, have given strict orders that women are not to be allowed on the peninsula.'

Then he went on talking of Henriette and of her futile endeavours to see her brother and assist him. One day, in the streets of Sedan, chance had brought her face to face with cousin Gunther, the captain in the Prussian Guards. He was passing along with that stern forbidding air of his, pretending not to recognise her, and she herself, feeling her heart rise as though she were in presence of one of her husband's murderers, had at the first moment hastened her steps. Then in a sudden veering which she could not account for, she had turned back after him, and in a harsh, reproachful voice, had told him everything, especially how her husband had been shot at Bazeilles. And on thus hearing of his relative's frightful death, he had made but an ambiguous gesture; it was the fortune of war, he also might have been killed. His soldier's face barely twitched as he learnt the news. Then, when she spoke to him of her brother who was a prisoner, begging that he would intervene so that she might obtain permission to see him, he refused to do so. Such intervention was not allowed, he said; the orders were strict; and he spoke of his superior's orders as though they were Divine commandments. On leaving him, Henriette clearly realised that he deemed himself a justiciar, and was swayed by all the intolerance and arrogance of an hereditary enemy, who had grown up hating the race which he was now chastising.

'Well,' concluded Delaherche, 'at all events you will have had some little to eat this evening. What worries me is that I fear I sha'n't be able to get another permit to come here.'

He then asked them if they had any commissions, and obligingly took charge of some letters, written in pencil, which other soldiers confided to him, for the Bavarians had been seen laughing and lighting their pipes with the missives which they had promised to forward. Then, whilst Maurice and Jean were accompanying him back to the bridge, he suddenly exclaimed: 'Look! there's Henriette yonder. Can't you see her waving her handkerchief?'

Indeed, among the throng behind the line of sentinels, a thin little face could be espied, a white speck, as it were, palpitating in the sunlight. Greatly affected, with their eyes moist, both soldiers immediately raised their arms and answered with an energetic wave of the hand.

The morrow, a Friday, proved the most fearful day that Maurice had spent on the peninsula. True enough, after passing another quiet night in the little wood, he had been lucky enough to get some bread to eat; Jean having discovered an old woman at the château of Villette who had some for sale, at the moderate price of ten francs the pound. Later on that day, however, they both witnessed a frightful scene, the nightmare-like memory of which long haunted them.

Chouteau had noticed the previous evening that Pache no longer complained, but was going about with a lightsome, contented air, like a man who has eaten his fill. The idea at once occurred to him that the slyboots must have a hidden store somewhere; and he was confirmed in this impression in the morning when he saw Pache go off for nearly an hour, and come back smiling slyly, with his mouth still full. Some windfall must certainly have come to him; he had probably got hold of some provisions or other in one of the scrambles. Thereupon Chouteau set himself the task of stirring up Loubet and Lapoulle, especially the latter. 'Ah!' said he, 'what a dirty cur that fellow Pache must be, to have some grub and not to share it with his comrades. I'll tell you what, we'll follow him this evening. We'll just see if he'll dare to gorge himself all alone, when other poor devils are kicking the bucket all round him.'

'Yes, yes, we'll follow him!' Lapoulle angrily repeated. 'We'll just see what it means.'

So saying, the colossus clenched his fists, maddened by the idea of getting something to eat. He experienced even greater suffering than the others, on account of his terrible appetite; indeed, his torment became at times so intense that he had even tried to chew the grass. He had secured nothing else to eat since two days previously, since the night, in fact, when the horseflesh and beetroot had given him such a frightful attack of dysentery. Despite his great strength, he was so clumsy with his big limbs that he had not been able to secure anything when the provision carts were pillaged. He would now have given his blood for a pound of bread.

When night was falling Pache glided away among the trees of Glaire Tower, and the three others cautiously crept after him. 'We mustn't rouse his suspicions,' repeated Chouteau. 'Be careful, he might look back.'