Franco-Prussian War, 1870-1871 -- Fiction; War stories
He had to repeat his order in German, whereon a soldier came forward
from the ranks, a short stocky Bavarian, with an enormous head
surrounded by a bristling forest of red hair and beard, beneath which
all that was to be seen were a pair of big blue eyes and a massive
nose. He was besmeared with blood, a hideous spectacle, like nothing so
much as some fierce, hairy denizen of the woods, emerging from his
cavern and licking his chops, still red with the gore of the victims
whose bones he has been crunching.
With a heart-rending cry Henriette repeated:
“Give me my husband, or let me die with him.”
This seemed to cause the cup of the officer’s exasperation to overrun;
he thumped himself violently on the chest, declaring that he was no
executioner, that he would rather die than harm a hair of an innocent
head. There was nothing against her; he would cut off his right hand
rather than do her an injury. And then he repeated his order that she
be taken away.
As the Bavarian came up to carry out his instructions Henriette
tightened her clasp on Weiss’s neck, throwing all her strength into her
frantic embrace.
“Oh, my love! Keep me with you, I beseech you; let me die with you—”
Big tears were rolling down his cheeks as, without answering, he
endeavored to loosen the convulsive clasp of the fingers of the poor
creature he loved so dearly.
“You love me no longer, then, that you wish to die without me. Hold me,
keep me, do not let them take me. They will weary at last, and will
kill us together.”
He had loosened one of the little hands, and carried it to his lips and
kissed it, working all the while to make the other release its hold.
“No, no, it shall not be! I will not leave thy bosom; they shall pierce
my heart before reaching thine. I will not survive—”
But at last, after a long struggle, he held both the hands in his. Then
he broke the silence that he had maintained until then, uttering one
single word:
“Farewell, dear wife.”
And with his own hands he placed her in the arms of the Bavarian, who
carried her away. She shrieked and struggled, while the soldier,
probably with intent to soothe her, kept pouring in her ear an
uninterrupted stream of words in unmelodious German. And, having freed
her head, looking over the shoulder of the man, she beheld the end.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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