The Great Invasion of 1813-14; or, After Leipzig: Being a story of the entry of the allied forces into Alsace and Lorraine, and their march upon Paris after the Battle of Leipzig, called the Battle of the Kings and NationsErckmann-Chatrian
History
The Great Invasion of 1813-14; or, After Leipzig: Being a story of the entry of the allied forces into Alsace and Lorraine, and their march upon Paris after the Battle of Leipzig, called the Battle of the Kings and Nations
Erckmann-Chatrian
France -- History -- Invasion of 1814 -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English
The trumpeters, one hand resting on their hips, the other elbow aloft,
were sounding the rappel at every corner of the street; the drummers
were tightening the cords of their drums. In short, in this space,
which, seen from a distance, looked like a hand's-breadth, might be
seen every description of military attitude at the moment of departure.
Some peasants, leaning out of their windows, were watching all this;
the women showed themselves at the windows of the lofts. The innkeepers
were busy filling flasks, corporal _schlague_[9] standing beside them.
Hullin had a quick eye, nothing escaped him: he took in all this at a
glance, and besides, he had been used to this sort of thing for many
a long year; but Lagarmitte, who had never seen anything of the kind
before, was stupefied with surprise:
"There are a good many of them!" said he, shaking his head.
"Ah! bah! what does that prove?" said Hullin. "In my time, we have
exterminated three armies of fifty thousand of the same race, in six
months; we were not one against four. All those you see there would not
have made our breakfast. And besides, you may make your mind easy, we
shall not need to kill them all; they'll fly before us like hares. I've
seen that before now!"
After these sage reflections, he judged it prudent to go and inspect
his company again.
"Come on!" said he to the shepherd.
They both then, advancing behind the barricades, shaped their course
along a path cut through the snow two days before. These snows,
hardened by the frost, were now become as solid and firm as ice. The
trees, as they lay in front all covered with hoar-frost, formed an
impenetrable barrier, which extended for about six hundred metres. The
road lay hollowed out below.
As he approached, Jean-Claude saw the mountaineers of the Dagsberg,
crouching at intervals of twenty paces in a sort of round nests which
they had dug out for themselves.
All these brave fellows were sitting on their knapsacks, their flask on
their right, their hats, or fox-skin caps, pushed to the back of their
necks, their guns between their knees. They had only to rise in order
to see the road at fifty paces beneath them, at the foot of a slippery
descent.
They were delighted to see Hullin.
"Eh! Master Jean-Claude, is it going to begin soon?"
"Yes, my lads; don't be afraid; before an hour we shall be hard at it."
"Ah! So much the better!"
"Yes, but above all, mind your aim; breast high; don't be in a hurry;
and be careful to show no more flesh than is necessary."
"Never fear, Master Jean-Claude."
He went farther on; everywhere he was received in the same way.
"Do not forget," said he, "to stop firing when Lagarmitte sounds his
horn. We must have no waste of powder and shot."
When he came up with old Materne, who commanded all these men, to the
number of about two hundred and fifty, he found the old huntsman just
preparing to smoke a pipe, his nose as red as a live coal, and his
beard bristling with cold like a wild boar.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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