The Plébiscite; or, A Miller's Story of the War: By One of the 7,500,000 Who Voted "Yes"Erckmann-Chatrian
Philosophy
The Plébiscite; or, A Miller's Story of the War: By One of the 7,500,000 Who Voted "Yes"
Erckmann-Chatrian
France -- History -- Third Republic, 1870-1940 -- Fiction
So Gredel feared for our hoard. I told her I had been to see, and that
nothing in the neighborhood had been disturbed.
But, after having quieted her, I myself had a great fright.
One Sunday evening, about thirty Prussians, commanded by their famous
lieutenant, came to the mill, striking the floor with the butt-ends of
their muskets, and shouting that they must have wine and eau-de-vie.
I gave them the keys of the cellar.
"That is not what I want," said the lieutenant. "You took sixteen
hundred livres at Saverne last month; where are they?"
Then I saw that I had been denounced. It was Placiard, or some of that
rabble; for denunciations were beginning. _All who have since declared
for the Germans were already beginning this business_. I could not
deny it, and I said: "It is true. As I was owing money at Phalsbourg,
I paid what I owed, and I placed the rest in safety under the care of
lawyer Fingado."
"Where is that lawyer?"
"In the town guarded by the sixty big guns that you know of."
Then the lieutenant paced up and down, growling, "You are an old fox.
I don't believe you. You have hid your money somewhere. You shall
send in your contribution in money."
"I will furnish, like others, my contribution for six men with what I
have got. Here are my hay, my wheat, my straw, my flour. Whatever is
left you may have; when there is nothing left, you may seek elsewhere.
You may kill the people; you may burn towns and villages; but you
cannot take money from those who have none."
He stared at me, and one of the soldiers, mad with rage, seized me by
the collar, roaring, "Show us your hoard, old rascal!"
Several others were pushing me out of doors; my wife came crying and
sobbing; but Gredel darted in, armed with a hatchet, crying to these
robbers, "Pack of cowards! You have no courage--you are all like
Schinderhannes!"
She was going to fall upon them; but I bade her: "Gredel, go in again."
At the same time I threw open my waistcoat, and told the brute who was
pointing his bayonet at my breast: "Now thrust, wretch; let it be over!"
It seems that there was something at that moment in my attitude which
awed them; for the lieutenant, who did nothing but scour the country
with his band, exclaimed: "Come, let us leave monsieur le maire alone.
When we have taken the place, we shall find his money at the lawyer's.
Come, my lads, come on; let us go and look elsewhere. His Majesty
wants crown-pieces: we will find them. Good-by, Monsieur le Maire.
Let us bear no malice."
He was laughing; but I was as pale as death, and went in trembling.
I fell ill.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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