SAC-AU-DOS By Joris Karl Huysmans Translated by L. G. Meyer. Copyright, 1907, by P. F. Collier & Son As soon as I had finished my studies my parents deemed it useful to mycareer to cause me to appear before a table covered with green clothand surmounted by the living busts of some old gentlemen who interestedthemselves in knowing whether I had learned enough of the dead languagesto entitle me to the degree of Bachelor. The test was satisfactory. A dinner to which all my relations, farand near, were invited, celebrated my success, affected my future, andultimately fixed me in the law. Well, I passed my examination and gotrid of the money provided for my first year's expenses with a blond girlwho, at times, pretended to be fond of me. I frequented the Latin Quarter assiduously and there I learned manythings; among others to take an interest in those students who blewtheir political opinions into the foam of their beer, every night, thento acquire a taste for the works of George Sand and of Heine, of EdgardQuinet, and of Henri Murger. The psychophysical moment of silliness was upon me. That lasted about a year; gradually I ripened. The electoral strugglesof the closing days of the Empire left me cold; I was the son neither ofa Senator nor a proscript and I had but to outlive, no matter what therégime, the traditions of mediocrity and wretchedness long since adoptedby my family. The law pleased me but little. I thought that the _Code_had been purposely maldirected in order to furnish certain people withan opportunity to wrangle, to the utmost limit, over the smallestwords; even today it seems to me that a phrase clearly worded can notreasonably bear such diverse interpretation. I was sounding my depths, searching for some state of being that I mightembrace without too much disgust, when the late Emperor found one forme; he made me a soldier through the maladroitness of his policy. The war with Prussia broke out. To tell the truth I did not understandthe motives that made that butchery of armies necessary. I felt neitherthe need of killing others nor of being killed by them. However thatmay be, enrolled in the _Garde mobile_ of the Seine, I received orders, after having gone in search of an outfit, to visit the barber and to beat the barracks in the Rue Lourcine at seven o'clock in the evening. I was at the place punctually. After roll-call part of the regimentswarmed out of the barrack gates and emptied into the street. Then thesidewalks raised a shout and the gutters ran. Crowding one against another, workmen in blouses, workmen in tatters, soldiers strapped and gaitered, without arms, they scanned to the clinkof glasses the Marseillaise over which they shouted themselves hoarsewith their voices out of time. Heads geared with képis {1} of incredibleheight and ornamented with vizors fit for blind men and with tincockades of red, white and blue, muffled in blue-black jackets withmadder-red collars and cuffs, breached in blue linen pantaloons with ared stripe down the side, the militia of the Seine kept howling at themoon before going forth to conquer Prussia. That was a deafening uproarat the wine shops, a hubbub of glasses, cans and shrieks, cut into hereand there by the rattling of a window shaken by the wind. Suddenly theroll of the drum muffled all that clamor; a new column poured out of thebarracks; there was carousing and tippling indescribable. Those soldierswho were drinking in the wine shops shot now out into the streets, followed by their parents and friends who disputed the honor of carryingtheir knapsacks; the ranks were broken; it was a confusion of soldiersand citizens; mothers wept, fathers, more contained, sputtered wine, children frisked for joy and shrieked patriotic songs at the top oftheir shrill voices. 1 Military hats. They crossed Paris helter-skelter by the flashes of lightningthat whipped the storming clouds into white zigzags. The heat wasoverpowering, the knapsack was heavy; they drank at every corner of thestreet; they arrived at last at the railway station of Aubervilliers. There was a moment of silence broken by the sound of sobbing, dominatedagain by a burst of the Marseillaise, then they stalled us like cattlein the cars. "Good night, Jules! may we meet soon again! Be good!Above all write to me!" They squeezed hands for a last time, the trainwhistled, we had left the station. We were a regular shovelful of fiftymen in that box that rolled away with us. Some were weeping freely, jeered at by the others who, completely lost in drink, were stickinglighted candles into their provisions and bawling at the top of theirvoices: "Down with Badinguet! and long live Rochefort!" {2} 2 "Badinguet, nickname given to Napoleon III; Henri Rochefort, anti-Napoleon journalist and agitator. Others, in a corner by themselves, stared silently and sullenly at thebroad floor that kept vibrating in the dust. All at once the convoymakes a halt--I got out. Complete darkness--twenty-five minutes aftermidnight. On all sides stretch the fields, and in the distance lighted up by sharpflashes of lightning, a cottage, a tree sketch their silhouette againsta sky swollen by the tempest. Only the grinding and rumbling of theengine is heard, whose clusters of sparks flying from the smokestackscatter like a bouquet of fireworks the whole length of the train. Everyone gets out, goes forward as far as the engine, which looms up in thenight and becomes huge. The stop lasted quite two hours. The signaldisks flamed red, the engineer was waiting for them to reverse. Theyturn; again we get back into the wagons, but a man who comes up on therun and swinging a lantern, speaks a few words to the conductor, whoimmediately backs the train into a siding where we remain motionless. Not one of us knows where we are. I descend again from the carriage, andsitting on an embankment, I nibble at a bit of bread and drink a drop ortwo, when the whirl of a hurricane whistles in the distance, approaches, roaring and vomiting fire, and an interminable train of artillery passedat full speed, carrying along horses, men, and cannon whose bronze neckssparkle in a confusion of light. Five minutes after we take up our slowadvance, again interrupted by halts that grow longer and longer. Thejourney ends with daybreak, and leaning from the car window, worn out bythe long watch of the night, I look out upon the country that surroundsus: a succession of chalky plains, closing in the horizon, a band ofpale green like the color of a sick turquoise, a flat country, gloomy, meagre, the beggarly Champagne Pouilleuse! Little by little the sun brightens, we, rumbling on the while, end, however, by getting there! Leaving at eight o'clock in the evening, wewere delivered at three o'clock of the afternoon of the next day. Two ofthe militia had dropped by the way, one who had taken a header from thetop of the car into the river, the other who had broken his head on theledge of a bridge. The rest, after having pillaged the hovels and thegardens, met along the route wherever the train stopped, either yawned, their lips puffed out with wine, and their eyes swollen, or amusedthemselves by throwing from one side of the carriage to the otherbranches of shrubs and hencoops which they had stolen. The disembarking was managed after the same fashion as the departure. Nothing was ready; neither canteen, nor straw, nor coats, nor arms, nothing, absolutely nothing. Only tents full of manure and of insects, just left by the troops off for the frontier. For three days we live atthe mercy of Mourmelon. {3} Eating a sausage one day and drinking abowl of café-au-lait the next, exploited to the utmost by the natives, sleeping, no matter how, without straw and without covering. Truly sucha life was not calculated to give us a taste for the calling they hadinflicted on us. 3 A suburb of Chalons. Once in camp, the companies separated; the laborers took themselvesto the tents of their fellows; the bourgeois did the same. The tent inwhich I found myself was not badly managed, for we succeeded in drivingout by argument of wine the two fellows, the native odor of whose feetwas aggravated by a long and happy neglect. One or two days passed. They made us mount guard with the pickets, wedrank a great deal of eau-de-vie, and the drink-shops of Mourmelon werefull without let, when suddenly Canrobert {4} passed us in review alongthe front line of battle. I see him now on his big horse, bent over thesaddle, his hair flying, his waxed mustaches in a ghastly face. A mutinywas breaking out. Deprived of everything, and hardly convinced by thatmarshal that we lacked nothing, we growled in chorus when he talked ofrepressing our complaints by force: "Ran, plan, plan, a hundred thousandmen afoot, to Paris, to Paris!" 4 Canrobert, a brave and distinguished veteran, head of the Sixth Corps of the Army of the Rhine. Canrobert grew livid, and shouted, planting his horse in the midst ofus. "Hats off to a marshal of France!" Again a howl goes up from theranks; then turning bridle, followed in confusion by his staff officers, he threatened us with his finger, whistling between his separated teeth. "You shall pay dear for this, gentlemen from Paris!" Two days after this episode, the icy water of the camp made me sosick that there was urgent need of my entering the hospital. After thedoctor's visit, I buckle on my knapsack, and under guard of a corporal, here I am going limping along, dragging my legs and sweating under myharness. The hospital is gorged with men; they send me back. I thengo to one of the nearest military hospitals; a bed stands empty; I amadmitted. I put down my knapsack at last, and with the expectation thatthe major would forbid me to move, I went out for a walk in the littlegarden which connected the set of buildings. Suddenly there issued fromthe door a man with bristling beard and bulging eyes. He plants hishands in the pockets of a long dirt-brown cloak, and shouts out from thedistance as soon as he sees me: "Hey you, man! What are you doing over here?" I approach, I explain tohim the motive that brings me. He thrashes his arms about and bawls: "Go in again! You have no right to walk about in this garden until theygive you your costume. " I go back into the room, a nurse arrives and brings me a great militarycoat, pantaloons, old shoes without heels, and a cap like a nightcap. Ilook at myself, thus grotesquely dressed, in my little mirror. GoodHeavens, what a face and what an outfit! With my haggard eyes and mysallow complexion, with my hair cut short, and my nose with the bumpsshining; with my long mouse-gray coat, my pants stained russet, my greathedless shoes, my colossal cotton cap, I am prodigiously ugly. I couldnot keep from laughing. I turn my head toward the side of my bedneighbor, a tall boy of Jewish type, who is sketching my portrait in anotebook. We become friends at once; I tell him to call me EugèneLejantel; he responds by telling me to call him Francis Emonot; werecall to each other this and that painter; we enter into a discussionof esthetics and forget our misfortune. Night arrives; they portion outto us a dish of boiled meat dotted black with a few lentils, they pourus out brimming cups of coco-clairet, and I undress, enchanted atstretching myself out in a bed without keeping my clothes and my shoeson. The next morning I am awakened at about six o'clock by a great fracas atthe door and a clatter of voices. I sit up in bed, I rub my eyes, andI see the gentleman of the night before, still dressed in his wrapper, brown the color of cachou, who advances majestically, followed by atrain of nurses. It was the major. Scarcely inside, he rolls his dullgreen eyes from right to left and from left to right, plunges his handsin his pockets and bawls: "Number One, show your leg--your dirty leg. Eh, it's in a bad shape, that leg, that sore runs like a fountain; lotion of bran and water, lint, half-rations, a strong licorice tea. Number Two, show yourthroat--your dirty throat. It's getting worse and worse, that throat;the tonsils will be cut out to-morrow. " "But, doctor--" "Eh, I am not asking anything from you, am I? Say one word and I'll putyou on a diet. " "But, at least--" "Put that man on a diet. Write: diet, gargles, strong licorice tea. " In that vein he passed all the sick in review, prescribing for all, thesyphilitics and the wounded, the fevered and the dysentery patients hisstrong licorice tea. He stopped in front of me, stared into my face, tore off my covering, punched my stomach with his fist, orderedalbuminated water for me, the inevitable tea; and went out snorting anddragging his feet. Life was difficult with the men who were about us. There were twenty-onein our sleeping quarters. At my left slept my friend, the painter; onmy right, a great devil of a trumpeter, with face pocked like a sewingthimble and yellow as a glass of bile. He combined two professions, thatof cobbler by day and a procurer of girls by night. He was, in otherrespects, a comical fellow who frisked about on his hands, or on hishead, telling you in the most naïve way in the world the manner in whichhe expedited at the toe of his boot the work of his menials, or intonedin a touching voice sentimental songs: "I have cherished in my sorrow--ow But the friendship of a swallow--ow. " I conquered his good graces by giving him twenty sous to buy a liter ofwine with, and we did well in not being on bad terms with him, forthe rest of our quarters--composed in part of attorneys of the RueMaubuée--were well disposed to pick a quarrel with us. One night, among others, the 15th of August, Francis Emonot threatenedto box the ears of two men who had taken his towel. There was aformidable hubbub in the dormitory. Insults rained, we were treated to"roule-en-coule et de duchesses. " Being two against nineteen, we werein a fair way of getting a regular drubbing, when the bugler interfered, took aside the most desperate and coaxed them into giving up the stolenobject. To celebrate the reconciliation which followed this scene, Francis and I contributed three francs each, and it was arranged thatthe bugler with the aid of his comrades should try to slip out of thehospital and bring back some meat and wine. The light had disappeared from the major's window, the druggist at lastextinguished his, we climb over the thicket, examine our surroundings, caution the men who are gliding along the walls not to encounter thesentinels on the way, mount on one another's shoulders and jump off intothe field. An hour later they came back laden with victuals; they passthem over and reenter the dormitory with us; we suppress the two nightlamps, light candle-ends stuck on the floor, and around my bed in ourshirts we form a circle. We had absorbed three or four liters of wineand cut up the best part of a leg of mutton, when a great clattering ofshoes is heard; I blow out the candle stubbs, by the grace of my shoe, and every one escapes under the beds. The door opens; the major appears, heaves a formidable "Good Heavens!" stumbles in the darkness, goes outand comes back with a lantern and the inevitable train of nurses. Iprofit by the moment to disperse the remains of the feast; the majorcrosses the dormitory at a quick step, swearing, threatening to take usall into custody and to put us in stocks. We are convulsed with laughter under our coverings; a trumpet-flourishblazes from the other side of the dormitory. The major puts us all underdiet; then he goes out, warning us that we shall know in a few minuteswhat metal he is made of. Once gone, we vie with each other in doing our worst; flashes oflaughter rumble and crackle. The trumpeter does a handspring in thedormitory, one of his friends joins him, a third jumps on his bed ason a springboard and bounces up and down, his arms balancing, his shirtflying; his neighbor breaks into a triumphant cancan; the major entersabruptly, orders four men of the line he has brought with him to seizethe dancers, and announces to us that he is going to draw up a reportand send it to whom it may concern. Calm is restored at last; the next day we get the nurses to buy us someeatables. The days run on without further incident. We are beginning toperish of ennui in this hospital, when, one day, at five o'clock, thedoctor bursts into the room and orders us to put on our campaign clothesand to buckle on our knapsacks. We learn ten minutes later that the Prussians are marching on Chalons. A gloomy amazement reigns in the quarters. Until now we have had nodoubts as to the outcome of passing events. We knew about the toocelebrated victory of Sarrebrück, we do not expect the reverses whichoverwhelm us. The major examines every man; not one is cured, allhad been too long gorged with licorice water and deprived of care. Nevertheless, he returns to their corps the least sick, he orders othersto lie down completely dressed, knapsack in readiness. Francis and I areamong these last. The day passes, the night passes. Nothing. But I havethe colic continually and suffer. At last, at about nine o'clock in themorning, appears a long train of mules with "cacolets, "{5} and led by"tringlots. "{6} 5 Panier seats used in the French army to transport the wounded. 6 Tringlots are the soldiers detailed for this duty. We climb two by two into the baskets. Francis and I were lifted ontothe same mule, only, as the painter was very fat and I very lean, thearrangement see-sawed; I go up in the air while he descends under thebelly of the mule, who, dragged by the head, and pushed from behind, dances and flings about furiously. We trot along in a whirlwind of dust, blinded, bewildered, jolted, we cling to the bar of the cacolet, shutour eyes, laugh and groan. We arrive at Chalons more dead than alive;we fall to the gravel like jaded cattle, then they pack us into the carsand we leave Chalons to go--where? No one knows. It is night; we fly over the rails. The sick are taken from the cars andwalked up and down the platforms. The engine whistles, slows down andstops in a railway station--that of Reims, I suppose, but I can not besure. We are dying of hunger, the commissary forgot but one thing: togive us bread for the journey. I get out. I see an open buffet, I runfor it, but others are there before me. They are fighting as I comeup. Some were seizing bottles, others meat, some bread, some cigars. Half-dazed but furious, the restaurant-keeper defends his shop at thepoint of a spit. Crowded by their comrades, who come up in gangs, thefront row of militia throw themselves onto the counter, which givesway, carrying in its wake the owner of the buffet and his waiters. Thenfollowed a regular pillage; everything went, from matches to toothpicks. Meanwhile the bell rings and the train starts. Not one of us disturbshimself, and while sitting on the walk, I explain to the painter howthe tubes work, the mechanism of the bell. The train backs down over therails to take us aboard. We ascend into our compartments again and wepass in review the booty we had seized. To tell the truth, therewas little variety of food. Pork-butcher's meat and nothing butpork-butcher's meat! We had six strings of Bologna sausages flavoredwith garlic, a scarlet tongue, two sausages, a superb slice of Italiansausage, a slice in silver stripe, the meat all of an angry red, mottledwhite; four liters of wine, a half-bottle of cognac, and a few candleends. We stick the candle ends into the neck of our flasks, which swing, hung by strings to the sides of the wagon. There was, thus, when thetrain jolted over a switch, a rain of hot grease which congealed almostinstantly into great platters, but our coats had seen many another. We began our repast at once, interrupted by the going and coming ofthose of the militia who kept running along the footboards the wholelength of the train, and knocked at our window-panes and demandedsomething to drink. We sang at the top of our voices, we drank, weclinked glasses. Never did sick men make so much noise or romp so on atrain in motion! One would have said that it was a rolling Court of Miracles; thecripples jumped with jointed legs, those whose intestines were burningsoaked them in bumpers of cognac, the one-eyed opened their eyes, thefevered capered about, the sick throats bellowed and tippled; it wasunheard of! This disturbance ends in calming itself. I profit by the lull to put mynose out of the window. There was not a star there, not even a tip ofthe moon; heaven and earth seem to make but one, and in that intensityof inky blackness, the lanterns winked like eyes of different colorsattached to the metal of the disks. The engineer discharged his whistle, the engine puffed and vomited its sparks without rest. I reclose thewindow and look at my companions. Some were snoring, others disturbed bythe jolting of the box, gurgled and swore in their sleep, turning overincessantly, searching for room to stretch their legs, to brace theirheads that nodded at every jolt. By dint of looking at them, I was beginning to get sleepy when thetrain stopped short and woke me up. We were at a station; and thestation-master's office flamed like a forge fire in the darkness of thenight. I had one leg numbed, I was shivering from cold, I descend towarm up a bit. I walk up and down the platform, I go to look at theengine, which they uncouple, and which they replace by another, andwalking by the office I hear the bills and the tic-tac of the telegraph. The employee, with back turned to me, was stooping a little to the rightin such a way that from where I was placed, I could see but the back ofhis head and the tip of his nose, which shone red and beaded with sweat, while the rest of his figure disappeared in the shadow thrown by thescreen of a gas-jet. They invite me to get back into the carriage, and I find my comradesagain, just as I had left them. That time I went to sleep for good. Forhow long did my sleep last? I don't know--when a great cry woke me up:"Paris! Paris!" I made a dash for the doorway. At a distance, against aband of pale gold, stood out in black the smokestacks of factories andworkshops. We were at Saint-Denis; the news ran from car to car. Everyone was on his feet. The engine quickened its pace. The Gare du Nordlooms up in the distance. We arrive there, we get down, we throwourselves at the gates. One part of us succeeds in escaping, the othersare stopped by the employees of the railroad and by the troops; by forcethey make us remount into a train that is getting up steam, and here weare again, off for God knows where! We roll onward again all day long. I am weary of looking at the rowsof houses and trees that spin by before my eyes; then, too, I have thecolic continually and I suffer. About four o'clock of the afternoon, theengine slackens its speed, and stops at a landing-stage where awaitsus there an old general, around whom sports a flock of young men, withheadgear of red képis, breached in red and shod with boots with yellowspurs. The general passes us in review and divides us into two squads;the one for the seminary, the other is directed toward the hospital. Weare, it seems, at Arras. Francis and we form part of the first squad. They tumble us into carts stuffed with straw, and we arrive in frontof a great building that settles and seems about to collapse into thestreet. We mount to the second story to a room that contains some thirtybeds; each one of us unbuckles his knapsack, combs himself, and sitsdown. A doctor arrives. "What is the trouble with you?" he asks of the first. "A carbuncle. " "Ah! and you?" "Dysentery. " "Ah! and you?" "A bubo. " "But in that case you have not been wounded during the war?" "Not the least in the world. " "Very well! You can take up your knapsacks again. The archbishop givesup the beds of his seminarists only to the wounded. " I pack into my knapsack again all the knick-knacks that I had taken out, and we are off again, willy-nilly, for the city hospital. There was nomore room there. In vain the sisters contrive to squeeze the iron bedstogether, the wards are full. Worn out by all these delays, I seize onemattress, Francis takes another, and we go and stretch ourselves in thegarden on a great glass-plot. The next day I have a talk with the director, an affable and charmingman. I ask permission for the painter and for me to go out into thetown. He consents; the door opens; we are free! We are going to dine atlast! To eat real meat, to drink real wine! Ah, we do not hesitate; wemake straight for the best hotel in town. They serve us there witha wholesome meal. There are flowers there on the table, magnificentbouquets of roses and fuchias that spread themselves out of the glassvases. The waiter brings in a roast that drains into a lake of butter;the sun himself comes to the feast, makes the covers sparkle and theblades of the knives, sifts his golden dust through the carafes, andplaying with the pomard that gently rocks in the glasses, spots with aruby star the damask cloth. Oh, sacred joy of the guzzlers! My mouth is full and Francis is drunk!The fumes of the roast mingle with the perfume of the flowers; thepurple of the wine vies in gorgeousness with the red of the roses. The waiter who serves us has the air of folly and we have the air ofgluttons, it is all the same to us! We stuff down roast after roast, wepour down bordeaux upon burgundy, chartreuse upon cognac. To the devilwith your weak wines and your thirty-sixes, {7} which we have beendrinking since our departure from Paris! To the devil with thosewhimsicalities without name, those mysterious pot-house poisons withwhich we have been so crammed to leanness for nearly a month! We areunrecognizable; our once peaked faces redden like a drunkard's, we getnoisy, with noise in the air we cut loose. We run all over the town thatway. 7 Brandy of thirty-six degrees. Evening arrives; we must go back, however. The sister who is in chargeof the old men's ward says to us in a small flute-like voice: "Soldiers, gentlemen, you were very cold last night, but you are goingto have a good bed. " And she leads us into a great room where three night lamps, dimlylighted, hang from the ceiling. I have a white bed, I sink with delightbetween the sheets that still smell fresh with the odor of washing. We hear nothing but the breathing or the snoring of the sleepers. I amquite warm, my eyes close, I know no longer where I am, when a prolongedchuckling awakes me. I open one eye and I perceive at the foot of my bedan individual who is looking down at me. I sit up in bed. I see beforeme an old man, tall, lean, his eyes haggard, lips slobbering into arough beard. I ask what he wants of me. No answer! I cry out: "Go away!Let me sleep!" He shows me his fist. I suspect him to be a lunatic. I roll up my towel, at the end of which I quietly twist a knot; he advances one step; I leapto the floor; I parry the fisticuff he aims at me, and with the towel Ideal him a return blow full in the left eye. He sees thirty candles, he throws himself at me; I draw back and let fly a vigorous kick inthe stomach. He tumbles, carrying with him a chair that rebounds;the dormitory is awakened; Francis runs up in his shirt to lend meassistance; the sister arrives; the nurses dart upon the madman, whomthey flog and succeed with great difficulty in putting in bed again. Theaspect of the dormitory was eminently ludicrous; to the gloom of fadedrose, which the dying night lamps had spread around them, succeeded theflaming of three lanterns. The black ceiling, with its rings of lightthat danced above the burning wicks, glittered now with its tints offreshly spread plaster. The sick men, a collection of Punch and Judieswithout age, had clutched the piece of wood that hung at the end of acord above their beds, hung on to it with one hand, and with the othermade gestures of terror. At that sight my anger cools, I split withlaughter, the painter suffocates, it is only the sister who preservesher gravity and succeeds by force of threats and entreaties in restoringorder in the room. Night came to an end, for good or ill; in the morning at six o'clockthe rattle of a drum assembled us, the director called off the roll. Westart for Rouen, Arrived in that city, an officer tells the unfortunateman in charge of us that the hospital is full and can not take us in. Meanwhile we have an hour to wait. I throw my knapsack down into acorner of the station, and though my stomach is on fire, we are off, Francis and I, wandering at random, in ecstasies before the church ofSaint-Ouen, in wonder before the old houses. We admire so much andso long that the hour had long since passed before we even thought oflooking for the station again. "It's a long time since your comradesdeparted, " one of the employees of the railroad said to us; "they are inEvreux. " "The devil! The next train doesn't go until nine o'clock--Come, let's get some dinner!" When we arrived at Evreux, midnight had come. We could not presentourselves at a hospital at such an hour; we would have the appearanceof malefactors. The night is superb, we cross the city and we findourselves in the open fields. It was the time of haying, the piles werein stacks. We spy out a little stack in a field, we hollow out there twocomfortable nests, and I do not know whether it is the reminiscent odorof our couch or the penetrating perfume of the woods that stirs us, butwe feel the need of airing our defunct love affairs. The subject wasinexhaustible. Little by little, however, words become fewer, enthusiasmdies out, we fall asleep. "Sacre bleu!" cries my neighbor, as he stretches himself. "What timecan it be?" I awake in turn. The sun will not be late in rising, for thegreat blue curtain is laced at the horizon with a fringe of rose. What misery! It will be necessary now to go knock at the door of thehospital, to sleep in wards impregnated with that heavy smell throughwhich returns, like an obstinate refrain, the acrid flower of powder ofiodoform! All sadly we take our way to the hospital again. They open tous but alas! one only of us is admitted, Francis;--and I, they send meon to the lyceum. This life is no longer possible, I meditate an escape, the house surgeon on duty comes down into the courtyard. I show him mylaw-school diploma; he knows Paris, the Latin Quarter. I explain to himmy situation. "It has come to an absolute necessity. " I tell him "thateither Francis comes to the lyceum or that I go to rejoin him at thehospital. " He thinks it over, and in the evening, coming close to mybed, he slips these words into my ear! "Tell them tomorrow morningthat your sufferings increase. " The next day, in fact, at about seveno'clock, the doctor makes his appearance; a good, an excellent man, who had but two faults; that of odorous teeth and that of desiring toget rid of his patients at any cost. Every morning the follow-ing scenetook place: "Ah, ha! the fine fellow, " he cries, "what an air he has! good color, no fever. Get up and go take a good cup of coffee; but no fooling, you know! don't go running after the girls; I will sign for you your_Exeat_; you will return to-morrow to your regiment. " Sick or not sick, he sent back three a day. That morning he stops infront of me and says: "Ah! saperlotte, my boy, you look better!" I exclaim that never have I suffered so much. He sounds my stomach. "But you are better, " he murmurs; "the stomach isnot so hard. " I protest--he seems astonished, the interne then says tohim in an undertone: "We ought perhaps to give him an injection; and we have here neithersyringe nor stomach-pump; if we send him to the hospital--?" "Come, now, that's an idea!" says the good man, delighted at getting ridof me, and then and there he signs the order for my admission. JoyfullyI buckle on my knapsack, and under guard of one of the servants of thelyceum I make my entrance at the hospital. I find Francis again! Byincredible good luck the St. Vincent corridor, where he sleeps, indefault of a room in the wards, contains one empty bed next to his. Weare at last reunited! In addition to our two beds, five cots stretch, one after the other, along the yellow glazed walls. For occupants theyhave a soldier of the line, two artillerymen, a dragoon, and a hussar. The rest of the hospital is made up of certain old men, crack-brainedand weak-bodied, some young men, rickety or bandy-legged, and a greatnumber of soldiers--wrecks from MacMahon's army--who, after beingfloated on from one military hospital to another, had come to bestranded on this bank. Francis and I, we are the only ones who wearthe uniform of the Seine militia; our bed neighbors were good enoughfellows; one, to tell the truth, quite as insignificant as another; theywere, for the most part, the sons of peasants or farmers called to serveunder the flag after the declaration of war. While I am taking off my vest, there comes a sister, so frail, so prettythat I can not keep from looking at her; the beautiful big eyes! thelong blond lashes! the pretty teeth! She asks me why I have left thelyceum; I explain to her in roundabout phrases how the absence of aforcing pump caused me to be sent back from the college. She smilesgently and says to me: "Ah, sir soldier, you could have called the thingby its name; we are used to everything. " I should think she was used toeverything, unfortunate woman, for the soldiers constrained themselvesbut little in delivering themselves of their indiscreet amenities beforeher. Yet never did I see her blush. She passed among them mute, her eyeslowered, seeming not to hear the coarse jokes retailed around her. Heavens! how she spoiled me! I see her now in the morning, as the sunbreaks on the stone floor the shadows of the window bars, approachingslowly from the far end of the corridor, the great wings of her bonnetflapping At her face-She comes close to my bed with a dish that smokes, and on the edge of which glistens her well-trimmed finger nail. "Thesoup is a little thin to-day, " she says with her pretty smile, "so Ibring you some chocolate. Eat it quick while it's hot!" In spite of the care she lavished upon me, I was bored to death in thathospital. My friend and I, we had reached that degree of brutishnessthat throws you on your bed, trying to kill in animal drowsiness thelong hours of insupportable days. The only distractions offeredus consisted in a breakfast and a dinner composed of boiled beef, watermelon, prunes, and a finger of wine--the whole of not sufficientquantity to nourish a man. Thanks to my ordinary politeness toward the sisters and to theprescription labels that I wrote for them, I obtained fortunately acutlet now and then and a pear picked in the hospital orchard. I was, then, on the whole, the least to be pitied of all the soldiers packedtogether, pell-mell, in the wards, but during the first days I could notsucceed even in swallowing the meagre morning dole. It was inspectionhour, and the doctor chose that moment to perform his operations. Thesecond day after my arrival he ripped a thigh open from top to bottom;I heard a piercing cry; I closed my eyes, not enough, however, to avoidseeing a red stream spurt in great jets on to the doctor's apron. That morning I could eat no more. Little by little, however, I grewaccustomed to it; soon I contented myself by merely turning my head awayand keeping my soup. In the mean while the situation became intolerable. We tried, but invain, to procure newspapers and books; we were reduced to masquerading, to donning the hussar's vest for fun. This puerile fooling quickly woreitself out, and stretching ourselves every twenty minutes, exchanging afew words, we dive our heads into the bolsters. There was not much conversation to be drawn from our comrades. The twoartillerymen and the hussar were too sick to talk. The dragoon swore bythe name of heaven, saying nothing, got up every instant, envelopedin his great white mantle, and went to the wash-bowls, whose sloppycondition he reported by means of his bare feet. There were some oldsaucepans lying about in which the convalescents pretended to cook, offering their stew in jest to the sisters. There remained, then, only the soldier of the line: an unfortunategrocer's clerk, father of a child, called to the army, strickenconstantly by fever, shivering under his bedclothes. Squatting, tailor-fashion, on our bed, we listen to him recount thebattle in which he was picked up. Cast out near Froeschwiller, on aplain surrounded with woods, he had seen the red flashes shoot by inbouquets of white smoke, and he had ducked, trembling, bewildered by thecannonading, wild with the whistling of the balls. He had marched, mixed in with the regiments, through the thick mud, not seeing a singlePrussian, not knowing in what direction they were, hearing on all sidesgroans, cut by sharp cries, then the ranks of the soldiers placed infront of him, all at once turned, and in the confusion of flight he hadbeen, without knowing how, thrown to the ground. He had picked himselfup and had fled, abandoning his gun and knapsack, and at last, wornout by the forced marches endured for eight days, undermined by fear, weakened by hunger, he had rested himself in a trench. He had remainedthere dazed, inert, stunned by the roar of the bombs, resolved no longerto defend himself, to move no more; then he thought of his wife, and, weeping, demanded what he had done that they should make him suffer so;he picked up, without knowing why, the leaf of a tree, which he kept, and which he had about him now, for he showed it to us often, dried andshriveled at the bottom of his pockets. An officer had passed meanwhile, revolver in hand, had called him"coward, " and threatened to break his head if he did not march. He hadreplied: "That would please me above all things. Oh, that this wouldend!" But the officer at the very moment he was shaking him on to hisfeet was stretched out, the blood bursting, spurting from his neck. Thenfear took possession of him; he fled and succeeded in reaching aroad far off, overrun with the flying, black with troops, furrowed bygun-carriages whose dying horses broke and crushed the ranks. They succeeded at last in putting themselves under shelter. The cry oftreason arose from the groups. Old soldiers seemed once more resolved, but the recruits refused to go on. "Let them go and be killed, " theysaid, indicating the officers; "that's their profession. As for me Ihave children; it's not the State that will take care of them if I die!"And they envied the fate of those who were slightly wounded and the sickwho were allowed to take refuge in the ambulances. "Ah, how afraid one gets, and, then, how one holds in the ear the voicesof men calling for their mothers and begging for something to drink, "he added, shivering all over. He paused, and, looking about the corridorwith an air of content, he continued: "It's all the same, I am veryhappy to be here; and then, as it is, my wife can write to me, " and hedrew from his trousers pocket some letters, saying with satisfaction:"The little one has written, look!" and he points out at the foot ofthe paper under his wife's labored handwriting, some up-and-down strokesforming a dictated sentence, where there were some "I kiss papas" inblots of ink. We listened twenty times at least to that story, and we had to sufferduring mortal hours the repetitions of that man, delighted at having achild. We ended by stopping our ears and by trying to sleep so as not tohear him any more. This deplorable life threatened to prolong itself, when one morningFrancis, who, contrary to his habit, had been prowling around the wholeof the evening before in the courtyard, says to me: "I say, Eugène, comeout and breathe a little of the air of the fields. " I prick my ears. "There is a field reserved for lunatics, " he continued; "that field isempty; by climbing onto the roofs of the outhouses, and that is easy, thanks to the gratings that ornament the windows, we can reach thecoping of the wall; we jump and we tumble into the country. Two stepsfrom the wall is one of the gates of Evreux. What do you say?" I say--I say that I am quite willing to go out, but how shall we getback? "I do not know anything about that; first let us get out, we will planafterward. Come, get up, they are going to serve the soup; we jump thewall after. " I get up. The hospital lacked water, so much so that I was reduced towashing in the seltzer water which the sister had had sent to me. I takemy siphon, I mark the painter who cries fire, I press the trigger, thedischarge hits him full in his face; then I place myself in front ofhim, I receive the stream in my beard, I rub my nose with the lather, Idry my face. We are ready, we go downstairs. The field is deserted;we scale the wall; Francis takes his measure and jumps. I am sittingastride the coping of the wall, I cast a rapid glance around me; below, a ditch and some grass, on the right one of the gates of the town; inthe distance, a forest that sways and shows its rents of golden redagainst a band of pale blue. I stand up; I hear a noise in the court; Ijump; we skirt the walls; we are in Evreux! Shall we eat? Motion adopted. Making our way in search of a resting-place, we perceive two littlewomen wagging along. We follow them and offer to breakfast with them;they refuse; we insist; they answer no less gently; we insist again;they say yes. We go home with them, with a meat-pie, bottles of wine, eggs, and a cold chicken. It seems odd to us to find ourselves in alight room hung with paper spotted with lilac blossoms and green leaves;there are at the casements damask curtains of red currant color, amirror over the fireplace, an engraving representing a Christ tormentedby the Pharisees. Six chairs of cherry wood and a round table with anoilcloth showing the kings of France, a bedspread with eiderdown of pinkmuslin. We set the table, we look with greedy eye at the girls movingabout. It takes a long time to get things ready, for we stop them for akiss in passing; for the rest, they are ugly and stupid enough. But whatis that to us? It's so long since we have scented the mouth of woman! I carve the chicken; the corks fly, we drink like topers, we eatlike ogres. The coffee steams in the cups; we gild it with cognac;my melancholy flies away, the punch kindles, the blue flames of theKirschwasser leap in the salad bowl, the girls giggle, their hair intheir eyes. Suddenly four strokes ring out slowly from the church tower. It is four o'clock. And the hospital! Good heavens, we had forgotten it!I turn pale. Francis looks at me in fright, we tear ourselves from thearms of our hostesses, we go out at double quick. "How to get in?" says the painter. Alas! we have no choice; we shall get there scarcely in time for supper. Let's trust to the mercy of heaven and make for the great gate! We get there; we ring; the sister concierge is about to open the doorfor us and stands amazed. We salute her, and I say loud enough to beheard by her: "I say, do you know, they are not very amiable at that commissariat; thefat one specially received us only more or less civilly. " The sister breathes not a word. We run at a gallop for the messroom; itwas time, I heard the voice of Sister Angèle who was distributing therations. I went to bed as quickly as possible, I covered with my hand aspot my beauty had given me the length of my neck; the sister looks atme, finds in my eyes an unwonted sparkle, and asks with interest: "Areyour pains worse?" I reassure her and reply: "On the contrary, sister, I am better; butthis idleness and this imprisonment are killing me. " When I speak of the appalling ennui that is trying me, sunk in thiscompany, in the midst of the country, far from my own people, she doesnot reply, but her lips close tight, her eyes take on an indefinableexpression of melancholy and of pity. One day she said to me in a drytone: "Oh, liberty's worth nothing to you, " alluding to a conversationshe had overheard between Francis and me, discussing the charmingallurements of Parisian women; then she softened and added with herfascinating little moue: "You are really not serious, Mr. Soldier. " The next morning we agreed, the painter and I, that as soon as the soupwas swallowed, we would scale the wall again. At the time appointed weprowl about the field; the door is closed. "Bast, worse luck!"says Francis, "_En avant!_" and he turns toward the great door of thehospital. I follow him. The sister in charge asks where we are going. "To the commissariat. " The door opens, we are outside. Arrived at the grand square of the town, in front of the church, I perceive, as we contemplate the sculptures of the porch, a stoutgentleman with a face like a red moon bristling with white mustaches, who stares at us in astonishment. We stare back at him, boldly, andcontinue on our way. Francis is dying of thirst; we enter a café, and, while sipping my demi-tasse, I cast my eyes over the local paper, andI find there a name that sets me dreaming. I did not know, to tell thetruth, the person who bore it, but that name recalled to me memorieslong since effaced. I remembered that one of my friends had a relationin a very high position in the town of Evreux. "It is absolutelynecessary for me to see him, " I say to the painter; I ask his address ofthe café-keeper; he does not know it; I go out and visit all the bakersand the druggists that I meet with. Every one eats bread and takesmedicine; it is impossible that one of those manufacturers should notknow the address of Monsieur de Fréchêdé. I did find it there, in fact;I dust off my blouse, I buy a black cravat, gloves, and I go and ringgently, in the Rue Chatrain, at the iron grating of a private residencewhich rears its brick facade and slate roofs in the clearing of a sunnypark. A servant lets me in. Monsieur de Fréchêdé is absent, but Madameis at home. I wait for a few seconds in a salon; the portière is raisedand an old lady appears. She has an air so affable that I am reassured. I explain to her in a few words who I am. "Sir, " she says with a kind smile, "I have often heard speak of yourfamily. I think, even, that I have met at Madame Lezant's, madame, yourmother, during my last journey to Paris; you are welcome here. " We talked a long time; I, somewhat embarrassed, covering with my képithe spot on my neck; she trying to persuade me to accept some money, which I refuse. She says to me at last: "I desire with all my heart to be useful to you. What can I do?" I reply: "Heavens, Madame, if you could get themto send me back to Paris, you would render me a great service;communications will be interrupted very soon, if the newspapers are tobe believed; they talk of another _coup d'état_, or the overthrow of theEmpire; I have great need of seeing my mother again; and especially ofnot letting myself be taken prisoner here if the Prussians come. " In the mean while Monsieur de Fréchêdé enters. In two words he is madeacquainted with the situation. "If you wish to come with me to the doctor of the hospital, " he says, "you have no time to lose. " To the doctor! Good heavens! and how account to him for my absence fromthe hospital? I dare not breathe a word; I follow my protector, askingmyself how it will all end. We arrive; the doctor looks at me with astupefied air. I do not give him time to open his mouth, and I deliverwith prodigious volubility a string of jeremiads over my sad position. Monsieur de Fréchêdé in his turn takes up the argument, and asks him, inmy favor, to give me a convalescent's leave of absence for two months. "Monsieur is, in fact, sick enough, " says the doctor, "to be entitled totwo months' rest; if my colleagues and if the General look at it as I doyour protégé will be able in a few days to return to Paris. " "That's good, " replies Monsieur de Fréchêdé. "I thank you, doctor; Iwill speak to the General myself to-night. " We are in the street; I heave a great sigh of relief; I press the handof that excellent man who shows so kindly an interest in me. I run tofind Francis again. We have but just time to get back; we arrive at thegate of the hospital; Francis rings; I salute the sister. She stopsme: "Did you not tell me this morning that you were going to thecommissariat?" "Quite right, sister. " "Very well! the General has just left here. Go and see the director andSister Angèle; they are waiting for you; you will explain to them, nodoubt, the object of your visits to the commissariat. " We remount, all crestfallen, the dormitory stairs. Sister Angèle isthere, who waits for us, and who says: "Never could I have believed such a thing! You have been all over thecity, yesterday and to-day, and Heaven knows what kind of life you havebeen leading!" "Oh, really!" I exclaim. She looked at me so fixedly that I breathed not another word. "All the same, " she continued, "the General himself met you on the GrandSquare to-day. I denied that you had gone out, and I searched for youall over the hospital. The General was right, you were not here. Heasked me for your names; I gave him the name of one of you, I refusedto reveal the other, and I did wrong, that is certain, for you do notdeserve it!" "Oh, how much I thank you, my sister!" But Sister Angèle did not listento me. She was indignant over my conduct! There was but one thing to do;keep quiet and accept the downpour without trying to shelter myself. In the mean time Francis was summoned before the director, and since, Ido not know why, they suspected him of corrupting me; and since he was, moreover, by reason of his foolery, in bad odor with the doctor and thesisters, he was informed that he must leave the hospital the followingday and join his corps at once. "Those huzzies with whom we dined yesterday are licensed women, whohave sold us; it was the director himself who told me, " he declaredfuriously. All the time we are cursing the jades and lamenting over our uniformswhich made us so recognizable, the rumor runs that the Emperor is takenprisoner and that the Republic has been proclaimed at Paris; I give afranc to an old man who was allowed to go out and who brings me a copyof the "Gaulois. " The news is true. The hospital exults, Badinguetfallen! it is not too soon; good-by to the war that is ended at last. The following morning Francis and I, we embrace and he departs. "Till wemeet again, " he shouts to me as he shuts the gate; "and in Paris!" Oh, the days that followed that day! What suffering! what desolation!Impossible to leave the hospital; a sentinel paced up and down, in myhonor, before the door. I had, however, spirit enough not to try tosleep. I paced like a caged beast in the yard. I prowled thus for thespace of twelve hours. I knew my prison to its smallest cranny. Iknew the spots where the lichens and the mosses pushed up through thesections of the wall which had given way in cracking. Disgust for mycorridor, for my truckle-bed flattened out like a pancake, for my linenrotten with dirt, took hold of me. I lived isolated, speaking to no one, beating the flint stones of the courtyard with my feet, straying, like atroubled soul, under the arcades whitewashed with yellow ochre the sameas the wards, coming back to the grated entrance gate surmounted by aflag, mounting to the first floor where my bed was, descending to wherethe kitchen shone, flashing the sparkle of its red copper through thebare nakedness of the scene. I gnawed my fists with impatience, watchingat certain hours the mingled coming and going of civilians and soldiers, passing and repassing on every floor, filling the galleries with theirinterminable march. I had no longer any strength left to resist the persecution of thesisters, who drove us on Sunday into the chapel. I became a monomaniac;one fixed idea haunted me; to flee as quickly as possible thatlamentable jail. With that, money worry oppressed me. My mother hadforwarded a hundred francs to me at Dunkirk, where it seems I ought tobe. The money never appeared. I saw the time when I should not have asou to buy either paper or tobacco. Meanwhile the days passed. The De Fréchêdés seemed to have forgottenme, and I attributed their silence to my escapades, of which they hadno doubt been informed. Soon to all these anxieties were added horriblepains: ill-cared for and aggravated by my chase after petticoats, mybowels became inflamed. I suffered so that I came to fear I should nolonger be able to bear the journey. I concealed my sufferings, fearingthe doctor would force me to stay longer at the hospital. I keep my bedfor a few days; then, as I felt my strength diminishing, I wished to getup, in spite of all, and I went downstairs into the yard. Sister Angèleno longer spoke to me, and in the evening, while she made her rounds inthe corridor and in the mess, turning so as not to notice the sparks ofthe forbidden pipes that glowed in the shadows, she passed before me, indifferent, cold, turning away her eyes. One morning, however, when Ihad dragged myself into the courtyard and sunk down on every bench torest, she saw me so changed, so pale, that she could not keep from amovement of compassion. In the evening, after she had finished her visitto the dormitories, I was leaning with one elbow on my bolster, and, with eyes wide open, I was looking at the bluish beams which the mooncast through the windows of the corridor, when the door at the fartherend opened again, and I saw, now bathed in silver vapor, now in shadow, and as if clothed in black crepe, according as to whether she passedbefore the casements or along the walls, Sister Angèle, who was comingtoward me. She was smiling gently. "To-morrow morning, " she said to me, "you are to be examined by the doctors. I saw Madame de Fréchêdé to-day;it is probable that you will start for Paris in two or three days. " Ispring up in my bed, my face brightens, I wanted to jump and sing;never was I happier. Morning rises. I dress, and uneasy, nevertheless, Idirect my way to the room where sits a board of officers and doctors. One by one the soldiers exhibit their bodies gouged with wounds orbunched with hair. The General scraped one of his finger nails, theColonel of the Gendarmerie {8} fans himself with a newspaper; thepractitioners talk among themselves as they feel the men. My turncomes at last. They examine me from head to foot, they press down onmy stomach, swollen and tense like a balloon, and with a unanimity ofopinion the council grants me a convalescent's leave of sixty days. 8 Armed police. I am going at last to see my mother, to recover my curios, my books! Ifeel no more the red-hot iron that burns my entrails; I leap like a kid! I announce to my family the good news. My mother writes me letter afterletter, wondering why I do not come. Alas! my order of absence must becountersigned at the division headquarters at Rouen. It comes back afterfive days; I am "in order"; I go to find Sister Angèle; I beg her toobtain for me before the time fixed for my departure permission to gointo the city to thank De Fréchêdé, who have been so good to me. Shegoes to look for the director and brings me back permission. I runto the house of those kind people, who force me to accept a silkhandkerchief and fifty francs for the journey. I go in search of mypapers at the commissariat. I return to the hospital, I have but a fewminutes to spare. I go in quest of Sister Angèle, whom I find in thegarden, and I say to her with great emotion: "Oh, dear Sister, I am leaving; how can I ever repay you for all thatyou have done for me?" I take her hand which she tries to withdraw, and I carry it to my lips. She grows red. "Adieu!" she murmurs, and, menacing me with her finger, she adds playfully, "Be good! and above all do not make any wickedacquaintances on the journey. " "Oh, do not fear, my Sister, I promise you!" The hour strikes; the door opens; I hurry off to the station; I jumpinto a car; the train moves; I have left Evreux. The coach is half full, but I occupy, fortunately, one of the corners. I put my nose out ofthe window; I see some pollarded trees, the tops of a few hills thatundulate away into the distance, a bridge astride of a great pond thatsparkles in the sun like burnished glass. All this is not very pleasing. I sink back in my corner, looking now and then at the telegraph wiresthat stripe the ultramarine sky with their black lines, when the trainstops, the travellers who are about me descend, the door shuts, thenopens again and makes way for a young woman. While she seats herself andarranges her dress, I catch a glimpse of her face under the displacingof her veil. She is charming; with her eyes full of the blue of heaven, her lips stained with purple, her white teeth, her hair the color ofripe corn. I engage her in conversation. She is called Reine; embroidersflowers; we chat like old friends. Suddenly she turns pale, and is aboutto faint. I open the windows, I offer her a bottle of salts which I havecarried with me ever since my departure from Paris; she thanks me, itis nothing, she says, and she leans on my knapsack and tries to sleep. Fortunately we are alone in the compartment, but the wooden partitionthat divides into equal parts the body of the carriage comes up only asfar as the waist, and one can see and above all hear the clamor and thecoarse laughter of the country men and women. I could have thrashed themwith hearty good will, these imbeciles who were troubling her sleep! Icontented myself with listening to the commonplace opinions which theyexchanged on politics. I soon have enough of it; I stop my ears. I too, try to sleep; but that phrase which was spoken by the station-master ofthe last station, "You will not get to Paris, the rails are torn upat Mantes, " returned in my dreams like an obstinate refrain. I open myeyes. My neighbor wakes up, too; I do not wish to share my fears withher; we talk in a low voice. She tells me that she is going to join hermother at Sèvres. "But, " I say to her, "the train will scarcely enterParis before eleven o'clock to-night. You will never have time to reachthe landing on the left bank. " "What shall I do?" she says, "if my brother is not down at my arrival?" Oh, misery, I am as dirty as a comb and my stomach burns! I can notdream of taking her to my bachelor lodgings, and then I wish before allto see my mother. What to do? I look at Reine with distress. I takeher hand; at that moment the train takes a curve, the jerk throws herforward; our lips approach, they touch, I press mine; she turns red. Good heavens, her mouth moves imperceptibly; she returns my kiss; a longthrill runs up my spine; at contact of those ardent embers my sensesfail. Oh! Sister Angèle, Sister Angèle! a man can not make himself over!And the train roars and rolls onward, without slackening speed; we areflying under full steam toward Mantes; my fears are vain; the track isclear. Reine half shuts her eyes; her head falls on my shoulder; herlittle waves of hair tangle with my beard and tickle my lips. I put myarm about her waist, which yields, and I rock her. Paris is not far; wepass the freight-depots, by the roundhouses where the engines roar inred vapor, getting up steam; the train stops; they take up the tickets. After reflection, I will take Reine to my bachelor rooms, provided herbrother is not waiting her arrival. We descend from the carriage; herbrother is there. "In five days, " she says, with a kiss, and the prettybird has flown. Five days after I was in my bed, atrociously sick, andthe Prussians occupy Sèvres. Never since then have I seen her. My heart is heavy. I heave a deep sigh; this is not, however, the timeto be sad! I am jolting on in a fiacre. I recognize the neighborhood; Iarrive before my mother's house; I dash up the steps, four at a time. Ipull the bell violently; the maid opens the door. "It's Monsieur!"and she runs to tell my mother, who darts out to meet me, turns pale, embraces me, looks me over from head to foot, steps back a little, looksat me once more, and hugs me again. Meanwhile the servant has strippedthe buffet. "You must be hungry, M. Eugène?" I should think I washungry! I devour everything they give me. I toss off great glasses ofwine; to tell the truth, I do not know what I am eating and what I amdrinking! At length I go to my rooms to rest, I find my lodging just as I leftit. I run through it, radiant, then I sit down on the divan and Irest there, ecstatic, beatific, feasting my eyes with the view of myknickknacks and my books. I undress, however; I splash about in a greattub, rejoicing that for the first time in many months I am going to getinto a clean bed with white feet and toenails trimmed. I spring ontothe mattress, which rebounds. I dive my head into the feather pillow, myeyes close; I soar on full wings into the land of dreams. I seem to see Francis, who is lighting his enormous wooden pipe, andSister Angèle, who is contemplating me with her little moue; then Reineadvances toward me, I awake with a start, I behave like an idiot, Isink back again up to my ears, but the pains in my bowels, calmed fora moment, awake, now that the nerves become less tense, and I rub mystomach gently, thinking that the horrors of dysentery are at last over!I am at home. I have my rooms to myself, and I say to myself thatone must have lived in the promiscuosity of hospitals and camps toappreciate the value of a basin of water, to appreciate the solitudewhere modesty may rest at ease.