“But where are we?”
“At Vigneulles in the Meuse; this is the wood of Vigneulles, the village is three kilometres away, and behind the wood, a league from here, are the Prussians. They came into the village yesterday morning.” After saying this he gave a signal by whistling in a particular manner, and I at once saw ten or twelve peasants running up from different part of the wood. He explained our situation to them and gave them orders. While they went off to find my companions and the débris of the balloon, I followed my new guide towards the village in order to lose no time in preparing a way to leave the district as quickly as possible.
My mentor took me to the Mairie, a little house in the village, comprising the offices and the personal residence of the Mayor, the latter on the first-floor.
The behaviour of this village worthy was in singular contrast with that of the brave man who had brought me to him. He trembled when he heard that Frenchmen, coming from Paris, and recently descended from a balloon, were there, and he asked himself whether he could and ought for a single moment to shelter them. “If the Prussians hear that I have received them I am lost....”
I will pass quickly over the painful scene which followed. The poor man is since dead, and I only speak of the incident in order to show that the devoted efforts of our guide to carry us to the Belgian frontier were not without risk to himself. His name is Julien Thiébeaux; he was at that time employed in the Excise Department and has since been promoted to a Collectorship. He was a brave man and a good citizen.
When he saw the Mayor’s disposition towards ourselves, he said to me: “You can’t remain here, Monsieur, as the Prussians are encamped close at hand. They were here yesterday and may be here again to-morrow. They may come at any moment, even while we are speaking. I wanted to let the Mayor have the honour of saving you, and for that reason have said nothing; but the time has now come to act. Will you trust yourselves to me?”
I looked at the speaker and fixed my eyes on him a second time, trying to penetrate and read his secret thoughts from his countenance. He will pardon me for this last trace of suspicion, as will those who read these lines; it was not unnatural.
We were in the midst of a Prussian encampment, and the Mayor of the village had shown his sentiments in most unambiguous fashion; he had not the slightest desire to risk his neck in order to save some unknown men, who had been wrong-headed enough, according to him, to cross the Prussian lines in a balloon, and to drop exactly into his unfortunate village, which had all the best reasons in the world to live on good terms with the enemy’s army.... And then appears a simple villager, the first-comer as it were, and one who has no reason to interfere in a nasty business which does not concern him, and offers his services spontaneously and light-heartedly without being asked by anyone, in order to save three unknown men from under the Prussians’ noses! By doing so he was exposing himself, when he returned from his expedition on the morrow, to a reward at the hands of the enemy whose nature could not be doubted.
Such were the thoughts in my mind while M. Thiébeaux explained how urgent it was that we should leave, and offered to conduct us to the frontier through the Prussian army.
So I again inspected M. Thiébeaux, and not without suspicion.