Franco-Prussian War, 1870-1871 -- Fiction; War stories
“A man of no capacity, as everyone is now compelled to admit; but let
that pass, I say nothing of that. A visionary, a theorist, an
unbalanced mind, with whom affairs seemed to succeed as long as he had
luck on his side. And there’s no use, don’t you see, sir, in attempting
to work on our sympathies and excite our commiseration by telling us
that he was deceived, that the opposition refused him the necessary
grants of men and money. It is he who has deceived us, he whose crimes
and blunders have landed us in the horrible muddle where we are.”
Maurice, who preferred to say nothing on the subject, could not help
smiling, while Jean, embarrassed by the political turn the conversation
had taken and fearful lest he might make some ill-timed remark, simply
replied:
“They say he is a brave man, though.”
But those few words, modestly expressed, fairly made Delaherche jump.
All his past fear and alarm, all the mental anguish he had suffered,
burst from his lips in a cry of concentrated passion, closely allied to
hatred.
“A brave man, forsooth; and what does that amount to! Are you aware,
sir, that my factory was struck three times by Prussian shells, and
that it is no fault of the Emperor’s that it was not burned! Are you
aware that I, I shall lose a hundred thousand francs by this idiotic
business! No, no; France invaded, pillaged, and laid waste, our
industries compelled to shut down, our commerce ruined; it is a little
too much, I tell you! One brave man like that is quite sufficient; may
the Lord preserve us from any more of them! He is down in the blood and
mire, and there let him remain!”
And he made a forcible gesture with his closed fist as if thrusting
down and holding under the water some poor wretch who was struggling to
save himself, then finished his coffee, smacking his lips like a true
gourmand. Gilberte waited on Henriette as if she had been a child,
laughing a little involuntary laugh when the latter made some
exhibition of absent-mindedness. And when at last the coffee had all
been drunk they still lingered on in the peaceful quiet of the great
cool dining room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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