The discouragement which possessed Maurice, and which he analysed like an intelligent, well-educated man, was increasing and weighing more and more heavily upon all the troops who were immobilised there, consumed with waiting and expectation. Doubt and a presentiment of the truth were dimly penetrating their sluggish brains; and there was not a man among them, however limited his mental powers, who did not experience an uneasy consciousness that he was badly commanded, and ought not to have been where he was; though on the other hand he could not exactly tell why it was that he felt so exasperated. What were they doing there, good heavens! since the Prussians did not appear? Let them either fight at once or go off somewhere where they could sleep in peace. They had had quite enough of it. The anxiety went on increasing every minute after the departure of the last aide-de-camp despatched to Le Chêne for orders, and the men gathered together in groups and discussed matters openly. Their agitation even gained the officers, who did not know what to reply to those who were bold enough to question them. And thus it came to pass that every breast was lightened as of a grievous burden, and gave vent to a sigh of profound delight when, at five o'clock, a report spread that the aide-de-camp had returned, and that they were now about to fall back!
So prudence had at last gained the upper hand! The Emperor and MacMahon, who had never been in favour of that advance on Montmédy, and who felt uneasy at the news that they had again been outmarched by the foe, and were about to find both the army of the Crown Prince of Prussia and that of the Crown Prince of Saxony confronting them, renounced all idea of that improbable junction with Bazaine, and decided upon retreating by way of the northern strongholds, in such a manner as to fall back eventually upon Paris. The Seventh Corps received orders to proceed to Chagny by way of Le Chêne Populeux, whilst the Fifth was to march on Poix, and the Fifth and Twelfth on Vendresse. But if they were to fall back, why had they thus advanced to the Aisne—why had so many days been lost—why had they been subjected to so much fatigue, when it would have been so easy and so logical for them, at the time they were at Rheims, to have taken up strong positions forthwith in the valley of the Marne? Had their commanders no managing capacity, no military talent, no common-sense even? However, the men no longer took the trouble to question one another; they forgave the past in their delight at the sensible decision which had at last been arrived at—the only method by which they might extricate themselves from the wasp's nest into which they had ventured. From the generals down to the rank and file, one and all felt that they could again recover strength—nay, prove invincible—under Paris, and that it was there that they would beat the Prussians. But it was necessary to evacuate Vouziers at daybreak, so that they might be on their march to Le Chêne before being attacked, and the camp at once became the scene of extraordinary animation, the bugles sounded and orders crossed, whilst the baggage train and army-service convoy started in advance so as to lighten the rear-guard.
Maurice was delighted, but while he was endeavouring to explain to Jean the movement of the retreat which they were about to execute, he suddenly gave vent to a cry of pain. His excitement had fallen, and he again felt his foot weighing his leg down like lead. 'What's up? Has it begun again?' asked the corporal, really grieved. Then, as an idea came into that practical head of his, he added: 'Listen, youngster; you told me yesterday that you had some friends at Le Chêne, the town where we are going. Well, you ought to get the major's permission to drive there. You would have a good night's rest in a comfortable bed, and to-morrow, should you be able to walk better, we could take you up on our way. Eh? Does that suit you?'
It so happened that Maurice had found an old friend of his father's at Falaise, the village near which they were encamped; and this man, a petty farmer, was about to take his daughter to Le Chêne, to confide her to the care of an aunt there, and had a horse, harnessed to a light cart, already waiting to start.
Matters nearly turned out badly, however, at the very first words that Maurice addressed to Major Bouroche: 'I have injured my foot, Monsieur le docteur,' he began.
On hearing this, Bouroche, shaking his large lion-like head, roared out: 'I'm not Monsieur le docteur! Who on earth has sent me such a soldier as you?' And as Maurice, quite scared, began to stammer an apology, he resumed: 'I'm the major; do you hear me, you idiot?' Then realising the kind of man he had to deal with, he, doubtless, felt somewhat ashamed of himself, for he flew into a yet more violent tantrum: 'Your foot! a fine affair! Yes, yes, I allow you. Get into a cart, get into a balloon if you like. We've got quite enough dawdlers and pillagers already!'
When Jean helped Maurice to hoist himself into the cart, the latter turned round to thank him; and the two men fell into each other's arms as if they were not likely ever to see one another again. Indeed, who could tell—what with the commotion of the retreat and those Prussians who were near by? Maurice was surprised to feel how great was the affection that already attached him to Jean. He turned round twice to wave his hand to him; and then he set out from the camp, where preparations were now being made to light some large fires, for the purpose of deceiving the enemy as to the army's presence, whilst in reality the troops marched off, in the strictest silence, before the dawn of day.
Once on the road, the petty farmer who was driving Maurice did not cease to bewail the evil times. He had lacked the necessary courage to remain at Falaise, and yet he already regretted having left it, repeating that he would be utterly ruined if the enemy should burn his house. His daughter—a tall, pale creature—was crying. Maurice, however—drunk, as it were, with weariness—did not hear either of them, but slept on in a sitting posture, rocked by the rapid trot of the little horse, which in less than an hour and a half covered the four leagues lying between Vouziers and Le Chêne. It was not yet seven o'clock, and the twilight had scarcely fallen, when the young fellow, shivering and perplexed, alighted on the Place, near the bridge spanning the canal, and in front of the narrow yellow house where he had been born and had spent the first twenty years of his life. He was going there in a mechanical sort of way, oblivious of the fact that the house had been sold to a veterinary surgeon some eighteen months previously. When the farmer questioned him on the subject, he answered that he knew very well whither he was bound; and then thanked him repeatedly for his kindness in giving him a lift.
However, whilst approaching the well in the centre of the little triangular Place, he stopped short, dazed, and with his head quite empty. Where did he really intend to go? Suddenly he remembered that he had previously decided to call at the notary's house, which adjoined his former home, to ask hospitality of the notary's mother, that venerable, good-hearted old lady, Madame Desroches, who in a neighbourly way had spoilt him when he was a child. But he could scarcely recognise Le Chêne, usually such a dead-alive little place, amid the extraordinary agitation that now prevailed in it, owing to the presence of the army corps which was camping in its outskirts and filling its streets with officers, army followers, prowlers, and laggards of all descriptions. He certainly recognised the canal, crossing the town from end to end and cutting athwart the central Place, the two triangular sections of which were united by a narrow stone bridge. Over there, too, on the other bank, the mossy-roofed market could readily be identified, together with the Rue Berond plunging down on the left, and the road to Sedan stretching away on the right. Only, from the spot where he stood, it was necessary that he should raise his eyes and search for the slated belfry crowning the notary's house, to make sure that this was the once deserted corner where he had played at hopscotch; to such a degree, indeed, did the Rue de Vouziers in front of him now swarm with people, flowing along in a compact crowd as far as the town-hall. It seemed to him that an open space was being kept on the Place, and that some men were making the inquisitive townsfolk retire; and, in fact, behind the well he beheld to his astonishment quite an assemblage of vehicles, vans and waggons, a perfect baggage camp, which he had certainly seen somewhere before.
It was still light, the sun had scarcely sunk in the unrippled water of the canal, tinging it as with blood, and Maurice had just decided what course he would adopt, when a woman, standing near by, who had been looking at him for a few moments, exclaimed: 'Good heavens! but I'm surely not mistaken; you are young Levasseur?'