France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Then he gave the command. In a few minutes the chairs, the tables, the
buffet, the bed were dashed to pieces. The kindly man raised himself
with some effort, went into the farthest corner of the room; and while
the fire was being made, while the sergeant, whose cloak and trousers
were steaming, was warming himself laughingly in front of the crackling
fire, the old man was watching the burning of his last piece of
furniture with eyes of a stoic, and never stopped repeating obstinately:
"I ain't got no wood."
I went back to the station. The general had come out of the telegraph
office more excited and flushed and angry than ever. He jabbered out
something and presently brought about a great commotion. The clang of
sabres was heard, voices called out and answered one another, officers
were running in all directions. The bugle sounded. Without the least
understanding of this counter order, we had to put our knapsacks on our
backs and the guns on our shoulders.
Forward! March!...
With bodies rendered rigid by immobility and with dizzy heads, we
pushed and jostled one another and resumed our breathless journey in
the rain, in the mud, through the night!... To the right and the left
of us there were long stretches of fields swallowed up in the shadows
from which rose the crowns of apple trees which appeared to be twisted
in the skies. From time to time the barking of a dog was heard from
afar.... There were deep forests, sombre thickets which rose like walls
on each side of the road. Then came villages asleep, where our steps
resounded even more mournfully, or where at a window quickly opened and
quickly closed again, there appeared the vague outline of a human white
form ... terrified.... Then again fields and woods and villages.... Not
a single song, not a single word, only an immense silence, accentuated
by the rhythm of the tramping feet. The leather straps of the knapsack
cut into my flesh, the rifle felt like a red hot iron bar placed
upon my shoulder. For a moment I thought myself harnessed to a huge
wagon, loaded with broad stone and stuck in the mud and felt that the
carters were breaking my legs with the lashes of whips. With my feet
planted in the ground, my spine bent in two, with outstretched neck,
strangled by the bit, my lungs emitting a rattling sound, I was pulling
and pulling.... Pretty soon I reached a state where I was no longer
conscious of anything. I was marching in a state of torpor, like an
automaton, as if in a trance.... Strange hallucinations flitted before
my eyes. I saw a glowing road receding into space, lined with palatial
mansions and brilliant lights.... Strange scarlet flowers swayed their
corollæ in the air on the top of flexible stems, and a crowd of gay
people were singing at tables laden with refreshments and delicious
fruit.... Women with fluttering gauze skirts were dancing on illumined
lawns, to the music of numerous orchestras hidden in the grove strewn
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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