Then Maurice's agony began. He had tried to flee from that plaint of atrocious pain, which brought the sweat of anguish to his brow; but whilst he was rising and fumbling he stumbled over some outstretched limbs and fell to the ground again, walled up, as it were, with those dying men. And he made no further attempt to escape. A vision of the whole frightful disaster was rising up before him, from the time of their departure from Rheims to the crushing blow of Sedan. It seemed to him also as though the passion of the Army of Châlons were only that night coming to an end, amid the inky blackness of that cellar, resounding with the death-rattle of those two soldiers who prevented their comrades from sleeping. The army of despair, the expiatory flock, offered up as a holocaust, had, at each of its Stations,[39] paid for the faults of all with the red flood of its blood. And, now, ingloriously slaughtered and beslavered, it was sinking to martyrdom beneath a more brutal chastisement than it had deserved. 'Twas too much, Maurice was boiling over with anger, hungering for justice, burning to avenge himself on Destiny.
When the morning twilight appeared one of the two soldiers was dead, but the other's throat was still rattling.
'Come on, youngster,' said Jean, gently; 'we'll go and get some fresh air, that will be best.'
Strolling along in the pure morning air, which was already warm, they skirted the steep river-bank till they again found themselves near the village of Iges. And then Maurice suddenly became more excited than ever, shaking his fist at the far-spreading, sunlit horizon of the battlefield, which was spread out before him, the plateau of Illy just opposite, St. Menges on his left, and the wood of La Garenne on his right hand.
'No, no!' he cried. 'I cannot—I cannot bear the sight of all that any longer! It pierces my heart and drives me mad! Take me away, take me away at once!'
That day was again a Sunday; the pealing of church bells was wafted from Sedan, and a German regimental band could already be heard playing in the distance. However, there were still no orders for the 106th, and, frightened by Maurice's growing delirium, Jean made up his mind to try a plan which he had been nursing since the previous day. On the road, in front of the German guard-house, preparations were being made for the departure of another regiment, the 5th of the Line. Great confusion prevailed in the column, which an officer, who spoke very indifferent French, could not succeed in counting. And thereupon Jean and Maurice, having torn off both the collars and buttons of their uniforms, in order that the number of their regiment might not betray them, slipped into the midst of the throng, crossed the bridge, and thus at last found themselves on the road. The same idea must have occurred to Chouteau and Loubet, whom they espied behind them, glancing nervously on either side, like the murderers they were.
Ah! how great was the relief of those first happy moments! Now that they were outside their prison, it seemed like a resurrection, a return to living light and boundless air, the flowery awakening of every hope. And whatever might be their misfortunes now, they feared them not, they could afford to laugh at them, for had they not emerged unscathed from the frightful nightmare of the Camp of Misery?