“We will be just as happy as they some day.”
The next morning Toni waked up with a feeling of happiness which had been gradually growing on him ever since he had become a private soldier under Paul Verney. This made him long to whistle and sing like a blackbird had not the regulations forbidden soldiers to sing like blackbirds while at their duties. But the first sight that greeted him, as he marched on the parade ground, gave him an unpleasant shock. There were Nicolas and Pierre in the ranks. Their term of imprisonment had expired, and these two unworthy citizens were restored to their duties.
Toni avoided them all day long as much as he could, and in the evening, being off duty, he went into the town to see Denise. After spending half an hour with her, sitting on a bench in the public square while Mademoiselle Duval read her inevitable religious newspaper, a drizzle of rain coming on, he escorted his fiancée and his future aunt-in-law to their lodging, then walked down into the town to spend the hour that yet remained to him before he was obliged to turn in. The night had grown dark and stormy and the rain had become a determined downpour. The street lamps shone fitfully out of the gloom, but the windows of the cheap cafés, where the soldiers congregated, were resplendent with lights.
Toni was standing before one of these and debating whether he should go in when he felt an arm on each side of him. He looked around and Nicolas’ red head was close to his ear, while Pierre’s monkey face was on the other side of him.
“Come,” said Nicolas, “I know where we can get a good bottle of wine and have a game of cards.”
Toni could easily have wrenched himself free from them, but his old cowardice returned to him with a rush. He went sullenly with them under a moral compulsion which he could not have explained to save his life. He hated and feared their company; nevertheless, he went with them. They turned into a dark and narrow side street and then, diving into a blind alley so dark and noisome that Toni’s heart sank within him at the thought of the crimes that could be committed there, they climbed a rickety outside stair by the side of a tumble-down old house. Toni found himself presently in a garret room, dimly lighted by a malodorous oil lamp. It was evidently a place of entertainment for a low class of persons. There were sounds of voices below them and next them, but this room was unoccupied. There was a table in the middle of the floor and wine and glasses on it. Toni sat down, much against his will, and Pierre, pouring out some of the wine, which was vile, began to expatiate on the delights of liberty.
“This is a million times better,” he said, “than being locked up in prison with the devil of a sentry keeping his eye on one perpetually and three days on bread and water for sneezing.”
Toni longed to say that that was what both of them richly deserved, but dared not. Then Nicolas began:
“We should not have been imprisoned at all but for that scoundrel, Lieutenant Verney. He has a spite against us and takes it out as only an officer can on a private soldier.”
“It’s a lie,” cried Toni. This aspersion on their honor was not in the least resented by either Pierre or Nicolas, who knew, as only they and God did, what liars they were.