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diff --git a/23216-h/23216-h.htm b/23216-h/23216-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f0edca --- /dev/null +++ b/23216-h/23216-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1680 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Sac-au-dos, by Joris Karl Huysmans + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sac-Au-Dos, by Joris Karl Huysmans + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sac-Au-Dos + 1907 + +Author: Joris Karl Huysmans + +Release Date: October 27, 2007 [EBook #23216] +Last Updated: November 8, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAC-AU-DOS *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + SAC-AU-DOS + </h1> + <h2> + By Joris Karl Huysmans + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by L. G. Meyer. <br /> <br /> Copyright, 1907, by P. F. Collier + & Son + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + As soon as I had finished my studies my parents deemed it useful to my + career to cause me to appear before a table covered with green cloth and + surmounted by the living busts of some old gentlemen who interested + themselves in knowing whether I had learned enough of the dead languages + to entitle me to the degree of Bachelor. + </p> + <p> + The test was satisfactory. A dinner to which all my relations, far and + near, were invited, celebrated my success, affected my future, and + ultimately fixed me in the law. Well, I passed my examination and got rid + of the money provided for my first year’s expenses with a blond girl who, + at times, pretended to be fond of me. + </p> + <p> + I frequented the Latin Quarter assiduously and there I learned many + things; among others to take an interest in those students who blew their + political opinions into the foam of their beer, every night, then to + acquire a taste for the works of George Sand and of Heine, of Edgard + Quinet, and of Henri Murger. + </p> + <p> + The psychophysical moment of silliness was upon me. + </p> + <p> + That lasted about a year; gradually I ripened. The electoral struggles of + the closing days of the Empire left me cold; I was the son neither of a + Senator nor a proscript and I had but to outlive, no matter what the + régime, the traditions of mediocrity and wretchedness long since adopted + by my family. The law pleased me but little. I thought that the <i>Code</i> + had been purposely maldirected in order to furnish certain people with an + opportunity to wrangle, to the utmost limit, over the smallest words; even + today it seems to me that a phrase clearly worded can not reasonably bear + such diverse interpretation. + </p> + <p> + I was sounding my depths, searching for some state of being that I might + embrace without too much disgust, when the late Emperor found one for me; + he made me a soldier through the maladroitness of his policy. + </p> + <p> + The war with Prussia broke out. To tell the truth I did not understand the + motives that made that butchery of armies necessary. I felt neither the + need of killing others nor of being killed by them. However that may be, + enrolled in the <i>Garde mobile</i> of the Seine, I received orders, after + having gone in search of an outfit, to visit the barber and to be at the + barracks in the Rue Lourcine at seven o’clock in the evening. + </p> + <p> + I was at the place punctually. After roll-call part of the regiment + swarmed out of the barrack gates and emptied into the street. Then the + sidewalks raised a shout and the gutters ran. + </p> + <p> + Crowding one against another, workmen in blouses, workmen in tatters, + soldiers strapped and gaitered, without arms, they scanned to the clink of + glasses the Marseillaise over which they shouted themselves hoarse with + their voices out of time. Heads geared with képis {1} of incredible height + and ornamented with vizors fit for blind men and with tin cockades of red, + white and blue, muffled in blue-black jackets with madder-red collars and + cuffs, breached in blue linen pantaloons with a red stripe down the side, + the militia of the Seine kept howling at the moon before going forth to + conquer Prussia. That was a deafening uproar at the wine shops, a hubbub + of glasses, cans and shrieks, cut into here and there by the rattling of a + window shaken by the wind. Suddenly the roll of the drum muffled all that + clamor; a new column poured out of the barracks; there was carousing and + tippling indescribable. Those soldiers who were drinking in the wine shops + shot now out into the streets, followed by their parents and friends who + disputed the honor of carrying their knapsacks; the ranks were broken; it + was a confusion of soldiers and citizens; mothers wept, fathers, more + contained, sputtered wine, children frisked for joy and shrieked patriotic + songs at the top of their shrill voices. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1 Military hats. +</pre> + <p> + They crossed Paris helter-skelter by the flashes of lightning that whipped + the storming clouds into white zigzags. The heat was overpowering, the + knapsack was heavy; they drank at every corner of the street; they arrived + at last at the railway station of Aubervilliers. There was a moment of + silence broken by the sound of sobbing, dominated again by a burst of the + Marseillaise, then they stalled us like cattle in 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 train whistled, we had left the + station. We were a regular shovelful of fifty men in that box that rolled + away with us. Some were weeping freely, jeered at by the others who, + completely lost in drink, were sticking lighted candles into their + provisions and bawling at the top of their voices: “Down with Badinguet! + and long live Rochefort!” {2} + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 2 “Badinguet, nickname given to Napoleon III; Henri + Rochefort, anti-Napoleon journalist and agitator. +</pre> + <p> + Others, in a corner by themselves, stared silently and sullenly at the + broad floor that kept vibrating in the dust. All at once the convoy makes + a halt—I got out. Complete darkness—twenty-five minutes after + midnight. + </p> + <p> + On all sides stretch the fields, and in the distance lighted up by sharp + flashes of lightning, a cottage, a tree sketch their silhouette against a + sky swollen by the tempest. Only the grinding and rumbling of the engine + is heard, whose clusters of sparks flying from the smokestack scatter like + a bouquet of fireworks the whole length of the train. Every one gets out, + goes forward as far as the engine, which looms up in the night and becomes + huge. The stop lasted quite two hours. The signal disks flamed red, the + engineer was waiting for them to reverse. They turn; again we get back + into the wagons, but a man who comes up on the run and swinging a lantern, + speaks a few words to the conductor, who immediately backs the train into + a siding where we remain motionless. Not one of us knows where we are. I + descend again from the carriage, and sitting on an embankment, I nibble at + a bit of bread and drink a drop or two, when the whirl of a hurricane + whistles in the distance, approaches, roaring and vomiting fire, and an + interminable train of artillery passed at full speed, carrying along + horses, men, and cannon whose bronze necks sparkle in a confusion of + light. Five minutes after we take up our slow advance, again interrupted + by halts that grow longer and longer. The journey ends with daybreak, and + leaning from the car window, worn out by the long watch of the night, I + look out upon the country that surrounds us: a succession of chalky + plains, closing in the horizon, a band of pale green like the color of a + sick turquoise, a flat country, gloomy, meagre, the beggarly Champagne + Pouilleuse! + </p> + <p> + Little by little the sun brightens, we, rumbling on the while, end, + however, by getting there! Leaving at eight o’clock in the evening, we + were delivered at three o’clock of the afternoon of the next day. Two of + the militia had dropped by the way, one who had taken a header from the + top of the car into the river, the other who had broken his head on the + ledge of a bridge. The rest, after having pillaged the hovels and the + gardens, met along the route wherever the train stopped, either yawned, + their lips puffed out with wine, and their eyes swollen, or amused + themselves by throwing from one side of the carriage to the other branches + of shrubs and hencoops which they had stolen. + </p> + <p> + 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 at + the mercy of Mourmelon.{3} Eating a sausage one day and drinking a bowl of + café-au-lait the next, exploited to the utmost by the natives, sleeping, + no matter how, without straw and without covering. Truly such a life was + not calculated to give us a taste for the calling they had inflicted on + us. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 3 A suburb of Chalons. +</pre> + <p> + Once in camp, the companies separated; the laborers took themselves to the + tents of their fellows; the bourgeois did the same. The tent in which I + found myself was not badly managed, for we succeeded in driving out by + argument of wine the two fellows, the native odor of whose feet was + aggravated by a long and happy neglect. + </p> + <p> + One or two days passed. They made us mount guard with the pickets, we + drank a great deal of eau-de-vie, and the drink-shops of Mourmelon were + full without let, when suddenly Canrobert {4} passed us in review along + the front line of battle. I see him now on his big horse, bent over the + saddle, his hair flying, his waxed mustaches in a ghastly face. A mutiny + was breaking out. Deprived of everything, and hardly convinced by that + marshal that we lacked nothing, we growled in chorus when he talked of + repressing our complaints by force: “Ran, plan, plan, a hundred thousand + men afoot, to Paris, to Paris!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 4 Canrobert, a brave and distinguished veteran, head of + the Sixth Corps of the Army of the Rhine. +</pre> + <p> + Canrobert grew livid, and shouted, planting his horse in the midst of us. + “Hats off to a marshal of France!” Again a howl goes up from the ranks; + 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!” + </p> + <p> + Two days after this episode, the icy water of the camp made me so sick + that there was urgent need of my entering the hospital. After the doctor’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 my harness. The + hospital is gorged with men; they send me back. I then go to one of the + nearest military hospitals; a bed stands empty; I am admitted. I put down + my knapsack at last, and with the expectation that the major would forbid + me to move, I went out for a walk in the little garden which connected the + set of buildings. Suddenly there issued from the door a man with bristling + beard and bulging eyes. He plants his hands in the pockets of a long + dirt-brown cloak, and shouts out from the distance as soon as he sees me: + </p> + <p> + “Hey you, man! What are you doing over here?” I approach, I explain to him + the motive that brings me. He thrashes his arms about and bawls: + </p> + <p> + “Go in again! You have no right to walk about in this garden until they + give you your costume.” + </p> + <p> + I go back into the room, a nurse arrives and brings me a great military + coat, pantaloons, old shoes without heels, and a cap like a nightcap. I + look at myself, thus grotesquely dressed, in my little mirror. Good + Heavens, what a face and what an outfit! With my haggard eyes and my + sallow complexion, with my hair cut short, and my nose with the bumps + shining; with my long mouse-gray coat, my pants stained russet, my great + hedless shoes, my colossal cotton cap, I am prodigiously ugly. I could not + keep from laughing. I turn my head toward the side of my bed neighbor, a + tall boy of Jewish type, who is sketching my portrait in a notebook. We + become friends at once; I tell him to call me Eugène Lejantel; he responds + by telling me to call him Francis Emonot; we recall to each other this and + that painter; we enter into a discussion of esthetics and forget our + misfortune. Night arrives; they portion out to us a dish of boiled meat + dotted black with a few lentils, they pour us out brimming cups of + coco-clairet, and I undress, enchanted at stretching myself out in a bed + without keeping my clothes and my shoes on. + </p> + <p> + The next morning I am awakened at about six o’clock by a great fracas at + the door and a clatter of voices. I sit up in bed, I rub my eyes, and I + see the gentleman of the night before, still dressed in his wrapper, brown + the color of cachou, who advances majestically, followed by a train of + nurses. It was the major. Scarcely inside, he rolls his dull green eyes + from right to left and from left to right, plunges his hands in his + pockets and bawls: + </p> + <p> + “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 your throat—your + dirty throat. It’s getting worse and worse, that throat; the tonsils will + be cut out to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “But, doctor—” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, I am not asking anything from you, am I? Say one word and I’ll put + you on a diet.” + </p> + <p> + “But, at least—” + </p> + <p> + “Put that man on a diet. Write: diet, gargles, strong licorice tea.” + </p> + <p> + In that vein he passed all the sick in review, prescribing for all, the + syphilitics and the wounded, the fevered and the dysentery patients his + strong licorice tea. He stopped in front of me, stared into my face, tore + off my covering, punched my stomach with his fist, ordered albuminated + water for me, the inevitable tea; and went out snorting and dragging his + feet. + </p> + <p> + Life was difficult with the men who were about us. There were twenty-one + in our sleeping quarters. At my left slept my friend, the painter; on my + right, a great devil of a trumpeter, with face pocked like a sewing + thimble and yellow as a glass of bile. He combined two professions, that + of cobbler by day and a procurer of girls by night. He was, in other + respects, a comical fellow who frisked about on his hands, or on his head, + telling you in the most naïve way in the world the manner in which he + expedited at the toe of his boot the work of his menials, or intoned in a + touching voice sentimental songs: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I have cherished in my sorrow—ow + But the friendship of a swallow—ow.” + </pre> + <p> + I conquered his good graces by giving him twenty sous to buy a liter of + wine with, and we did well in not being on bad terms with him, for the + rest of our quarters—composed in part of attorneys of the Rue + Maubuée—were well disposed to pick a quarrel with us. + </p> + <p> + One night, among others, the 15th of August, Francis Emonot threatened to + box the ears of two men who had taken his towel. There was a formidable + hubbub in the dormitory. Insults rained, we were treated to + “roule-en-coule et de duchesses.” Being two against nineteen, we were in a + fair way of getting a regular drubbing, when the bugler interfered, took + aside the most desperate and coaxed them into giving up the stolen object. + To celebrate the reconciliation which followed this scene, Francis and I + contributed three francs each, and it was arranged that the bugler with + the aid of his comrades should try to slip out of the hospital and bring + back some meat and wine. + </p> + <p> + The light had disappeared from the major’s window, the druggist at last + extinguished his, we climb over the thicket, examine our surroundings, + caution the men who are gliding along the walls not to encounter the + sentinels on the way, mount on one another’s shoulders and jump off into + the field. An hour later they came back laden with victuals; they pass + them over and reenter the dormitory with us; we suppress the two night + lamps, light candle-ends stuck on the floor, and around my bed in our + shirts we form a circle. We had absorbed three or four liters of wine and + cut up the best part of a leg of mutton, when a great clattering of shoes + 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 out and comes + back with a lantern and the inevitable train of nurses. I profit by the + moment to disperse the remains of the feast; the major crosses the + dormitory at a quick step, swearing, threatening to take us all into + custody and to put us in stocks. + </p> + <p> + We are convulsed with laughter under our coverings; a trumpet-flourish + blazes from the other side of the dormitory. The major puts us all under + diet; then he goes out, warning us that we shall know in a few minutes + what metal he is made of. + </p> + <p> + Once gone, we vie with each other in doing our worst; flashes of laughter + rumble and crackle. The trumpeter does a handspring in the dormitory, one + of his friends joins him, a third jumps on his bed as on a springboard and + bounces up and down, his arms balancing, his shirt flying; his neighbor + breaks into a triumphant cancan; the major enters abruptly, orders four + men of the line he has brought with him to seize the dancers, and + announces to us that he is going to draw up a report and send it to whom + it may concern. + </p> + <p> + Calm is restored at last; the next day we get the nurses to buy us some + eatables. The days run on without further incident. We are beginning to + perish of ennui in this hospital, when, one day, at five o’clock, the + doctor bursts into the room and orders us to put on our campaign clothes + and to buckle on our knapsacks. + </p> + <p> + We learn ten minutes later that the Prussians are marching on Chalons. + </p> + <p> + A gloomy amazement reigns in the quarters. Until now we have had no doubts + as to the outcome of passing events. We knew about the too celebrated + victory of Sarrebrück, we do not expect the reverses which overwhelm us. + The major examines every man; not one is cured, all had been too long + gorged with licorice water and deprived of care. Nevertheless, he returns + to their corps the least sick, he orders others to lie down completely + dressed, knapsack in readiness. Francis and I are among these last. The + day passes, the night passes. Nothing. But I have the colic continually + and suffer. At last, at about nine o’clock in the morning, appears a long + train of mules with “cacolets,” {5} and led by “tringlots.” {6} + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 5 Panier seats used in the French army to + transport the wounded. + + 6 Tringlots are the soldiers detailed for this duty. +</pre> + <p> + We climb two by two into the baskets. Francis and I were lifted onto the + same mule, only, as the painter was very fat and I very lean, the + arrangement see-sawed; I go up in the air while he descends under the + belly 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, shut our + 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 cars and we + leave Chalons to go—where? No one knows. + </p> + <p> + It is night; we fly over the rails. The sick are taken from the cars and + walked up and down the platforms. The engine whistles, slows down and + stops in a railway station—that of Reims, I suppose, but I can not + be sure. We are dying of hunger, the commissary forgot but one thing: to + give us bread for the journey. I get out. I see an open buffet, I run for + it, but others are there before me. They are fighting as I come up. Some + were seizing bottles, others meat, some bread, some cigars. Half-dazed but + furious, the restaurant-keeper defends his shop at the point of a spit. + Crowded by their comrades, who come up in gangs, the front row of militia + throw themselves onto the counter, which gives way, carrying in its wake + the owner of the buffet and his waiters. Then followed a regular pillage; + everything went, from matches to toothpicks. Meanwhile the bell rings and + the train starts. Not one of us disturbs himself, and while sitting on the + walk, I explain to the painter how the tubes work, the mechanism of the + bell. The train backs down over the rails to take us aboard. We ascend + into our compartments again and we pass in review the booty we had seized. + To tell the truth, there was little variety of food. Pork-butcher’s meat + and nothing but pork-butcher’s meat! We had six strings of Bologna + sausages flavored with garlic, a scarlet tongue, two sausages, a superb + slice of Italian sausage, a slice in silver stripe, the meat all of an + angry red, mottled white; four liters of wine, a half-bottle of cognac, + and a few candle ends. 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 the train jolted over a switch, a rain of hot grease which + congealed almost instantly into great platters, but our coats had seen + many another. + </p> + <p> + We began our repast at once, interrupted by the going and coming of those + of the militia who kept running along the footboards the whole length of + the train, and knocked at our window-panes and demanded something to + drink. We sang at the top of our voices, we drank, we clinked glasses. + Never did sick men make so much noise or romp so on a train in motion! + </p> + <p> + One would have said that it was a rolling Court of Miracles; the cripples + jumped with jointed legs, those whose intestines were burning soaked them + in bumpers of cognac, the one-eyed opened their eyes, the fevered capered + about, the sick throats bellowed and tippled; it was unheard of! + </p> + <p> + This disturbance ends in calming itself. I profit by the lull to put my + nose out of the window. There was not a star there, not even a tip of the + moon; heaven and earth seem to make but one, and in that intensity of inky + blackness, the lanterns winked like eyes of different colors attached to + the metal of the disks. The engineer discharged his whistle, the engine + puffed and vomited its sparks without rest. I reclose the window and look + at my companions. Some were snoring, others disturbed by the jolting of + the box, gurgled and swore in their sleep, turning over incessantly, + searching for room to stretch their legs, to brace their heads that nodded + at every jolt. + </p> + <p> + By dint of looking at them, I was beginning to get sleepy when the train + stopped short and woke me up. We were at a station; and the + station-master’s office flamed like a forge fire in the darkness of the + night. I had one leg numbed, I was shivering from cold, I descend to warm + up a bit. I walk up and down the platform, I go to look at the engine, + which they uncouple, and which they replace by another, and walking 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 right in such a way + that from where I was placed, I could see but the back of his 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 the screen of a gas-jet. + </p> + <p> + They invite me to get back into the carriage, and I find my comrades + again, just as I had left them. That time I went to sleep for good. For + how 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 + a band of pale gold, stood out in black the smokestacks of factories and + workshops. We were at Saint-Denis; the news ran from car to car. Every one + was on his feet. The engine quickened its pace. The Gare du Nord looms up + in the distance. We arrive there, we get down, we throw ourselves at the + gates. One part of us succeeds in escaping, the others are stopped by the + employees of the railroad and by the troops; by force they make us remount + into a train that is getting up steam, and here we are again, off for God + knows where! + </p> + <p> + We roll onward again all day long. I am weary of looking at the rows of + houses and trees that spin by before my eyes; then, too, I have the colic + continually and I suffer. About four o’clock of the afternoon, the engine + slackens its speed, and stops at a landing-stage where awaits us there an + old general, around whom sports a flock of young men, with headgear of red + képis, breached in red and shod with boots with yellow spurs. The general + passes us in review and divides us into two squads; the one for the + seminary, the other is directed toward the hospital. We are, 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 front of a great building that + settles and seems about to collapse into the street. We mount to the + second story to a room that contains some thirty beds; each one of us + unbuckles his knapsack, combs himself, and sits down. A doctor arrives. + </p> + <p> + “What is the trouble with you?” he asks of the first. + </p> + <p> + “A carbuncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! and you?” + </p> + <p> + “Dysentery.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! and you?” + </p> + <p> + “A bubo.” + </p> + <p> + “But in that case you have not been wounded during the war?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the least in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! You can take up your knapsacks again. The archbishop gives up + the beds of his seminarists only to the wounded.” + </p> + <p> + 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 no + more room there. In vain the sisters contrive to squeeze the iron beds + together, the wards are full. Worn out by all these delays, I seize one + mattress, Francis takes another, and we go and stretch ourselves in the + garden on a great glass-plot. + </p> + <p> + The next day I have a talk with the director, an affable and charming man. + I ask permission for the painter and for me to go out into the town. He + consents; the door opens; we are free! We are going to dine at last! To + eat real meat, to drink real wine! Ah, we do not hesitate; we make + straight for the best hotel in town. They serve us there with a wholesome + meal. There are flowers there on the table, magnificent bouquets of roses + and fuchias that spread themselves out of the glass vases. 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 the blades of the knives, sifts + his golden dust through the carafes, and playing with the pomard that + gently rocks in the glasses, spots with a ruby star the damask cloth. + </p> + <p> + 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; the purple 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 of gluttons, it is all + the same to us! We stuff down roast after roast, we pour down bordeaux + upon burgundy, chartreuse upon cognac. To the devil with your weak wines + and your thirty-sixes, {7} which we have been drinking since our departure + from Paris! To the devil with those whimsicalities without name, those + mysterious pot-house poisons with which we have been so crammed to + leanness for nearly a month! We are unrecognizable; our once peaked faces + redden like a drunkard’s, we get noisy, with noise in the air we cut + loose. We run all over the town that way. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 7 Brandy of thirty-six degrees. +</pre> + <p> + Evening arrives; we must go back, however. The sister who is in charge of + the old men’s ward says to us in a small flute-like voice: + </p> + <p> + “Soldiers, gentlemen, you were very cold last night, but you are going to + have a good bed.” + </p> + <p> + And she leads us into a great room where three night lamps, dimly lighted, + hang from the ceiling. I have a white bed, I sink with delight between the + sheets that still smell fresh with the odor of washing. We hear nothing + but the breathing or the snoring of the sleepers. I am quite warm, my eyes + close, I know no longer where I am, when a prolonged chuckling awakes me. + I open one eye and I perceive at the foot of my bed an individual who is + looking down at me. I sit up in bed. I see before me an old man, tall, + lean, his eyes haggard, lips slobbering into a rough beard. I ask what he + wants of me. No answer! I cry out: “Go away! Let me sleep!” + </p> + <p> + 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 leap + to the floor; I parry the fisticuff he aims at me, and with the towel I + deal 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 in the + stomach. He tumbles, carrying with him a chair that rebounds; the + dormitory is awakened; Francis runs up in his shirt to lend me assistance; + the sister arrives; the nurses dart upon the madman, whom they flog and + succeed with great difficulty in putting in bed again. The aspect of the + dormitory was eminently ludicrous; to the gloom of faded rose, which the + dying night lamps had spread around them, succeeded the flaming of three + lanterns. The black ceiling, with its rings of light that danced above the + burning wicks, glittered now with its tints of freshly spread plaster. The + sick men, a collection of Punch and Judies without age, had clutched the + piece of wood that hung at the end of a cord above their beds, hung on to + it with one hand, and with the other made gestures of terror. At that + sight my anger cools, I split with laughter, the painter suffocates, it is + only the sister who preserves her gravity and succeeds by force of threats + and entreaties in restoring order in the room. + </p> + <p> + Night came to an end, for good or ill; in the morning at six o’clock the + rattle of a drum assembled us, the director called off the roll. We start + for Rouen, Arrived in that city, an officer tells the unfortunate man 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 a corner of the + station, and though my stomach is on fire, we are off, Francis and I, + wandering at random, in ecstasies before the church of Saint-Ouen, in + wonder before the old houses. We admire so much and so long that the hour + had long since passed before we even thought of looking for the station + again. “It’s a long time since your comrades departed,” one of the + employees of the railroad said to us; “they are in Evreux.” “The devil! + The next train doesn’t go until nine o’clock—Come, let’s get some + dinner!” + </p> + <p> + When we arrived at Evreux, midnight had come. We could not present + ourselves at a hospital at such an hour; we would have the appearance of + malefactors. The night is superb, we cross the city and we find ourselves + in the open fields. It was the time of haying, the piles were in stacks. + We spy out a little stack in a field, we hollow out there two comfortable + nests, and I do not know whether it is the reminiscent odor of our couch + or the penetrating perfume of the woods that stirs us, but we feel the + need of airing our defunct love affairs. The subject was inexhaustible. + Little by little, however, words become fewer, enthusiasm dies out, we + fall asleep. + </p> + <p> + “Sacre bleu!” cries my neighbor, as he stretches himself. “What time can + it be?” I awake in turn. The sun will not be late in rising, for the great + 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 the hospital, to sleep + in wards impregnated with that heavy smell through which returns, like an + obstinate refrain, the acrid flower of powder of iodoform! All sadly we + take our way to the hospital again. They open to us but alas! one only of + us is admitted, Francis;—and I, they send me on 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 my law-school diploma; he + knows Paris, the Latin Quarter. I explain to him my situation. “It has + come to an absolute necessity.” I tell him “that either Francis comes to + the lyceum or that I go to rejoin him at the hospital.” He thinks it over, + and in the evening, coming close to my bed, he slips these words into my + ear! “Tell them tomorrow morning that your sufferings increase.” The next + day, in fact, at about seven o’clock, the doctor makes his appearance; a + good, an excellent man, who had but two faults; that of odorous teeth and + that of desiring to get rid of his patients at any cost. Every morning the + follow-ing scene took place: + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Exeat</i>; + you will return to-morrow to your regiment.” + </p> + <p> + Sick or not sick, he sent back three a day. That morning he stops in front + of me and says: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! saperlotte, my boy, you look better!” + </p> + <p> + I exclaim that never have I suffered so much. + </p> + <p> + He sounds my stomach. “But you are better,” he murmurs; “the stomach is + not so hard.” I protest—he seems astonished, the interne then says + to him in an undertone: + </p> + <p> + “We ought perhaps to give him an injection; and we have here neither + syringe nor stomach-pump; if we send him to the hospital—?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, now, that’s an idea!” says the good man, delighted at getting rid + of me, and then and there he signs the order for my admission. Joyfully I + buckle on my knapsack, and under guard of one of the servants of the + lyceum I make my entrance at the hospital. I find Francis again! By + incredible good luck the St. Vincent corridor, where he sleeps, in default + of a room in the wards, contains one empty bed next to his. We are at last + reunited! In addition to our two beds, five cots stretch, one after the + other, along the yellow glazed walls. For occupants they have 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-brained and weak-bodied, + some young men, rickety or bandy-legged, and a great number of soldiers—wrecks + from MacMahon’s army—who, after being floated on from one military + hospital to another, had come to be stranded on this bank. Francis and I, + we are the only ones who wear the uniform of the Seine militia; our bed + neighbors were good enough fellows; one, to tell the truth, quite as + insignificant as another; they were, for the most part, the sons of + peasants or farmers called to serve under the flag after the declaration + of war. + </p> + <p> + While I am taking off my vest, there comes a sister, so frail, so pretty + that I can not keep from looking at her; the beautiful big eyes! the long + blond lashes! the pretty teeth! She asks me why I have left the lyceum; I + explain to her in roundabout phrases how the absence of a forcing pump + caused me to be sent back from the college. She smiles gently and says to + me: “Ah, sir soldier, you could have called the thing by its name; we are + used to everything.” I should think she was used to everything, + unfortunate woman, for the soldiers constrained themselves but little in + delivering themselves of their indiscreet amenities before her. Yet never + did I see her blush. She passed among them mute, her eyes lowered, seeming + not to hear the coarse jokes retailed around her. + </p> + <p> + Heavens! how she spoiled me! I see her now in the morning, as the sun + breaks on the stone floor the shadows of the window bars, approaching + slowly from the far end of the corridor, the great wings of her bonnet + flapping 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. “The soup + is a little thin to-day,” she says with her pretty smile, “so I bring you + some chocolate. Eat it quick while it’s hot!” + </p> + <p> + In spite of the care she lavished upon me, I was bored to death in that + hospital. My friend and I, we had reached that degree of brutishness that + throws you on your bed, trying to kill in animal drowsiness the long hours + of insupportable days. The only distractions offered us consisted in a + breakfast and a dinner composed of boiled beef, watermelon, prunes, and a + finger of wine—the whole of not sufficient quantity to nourish a + man. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to my ordinary politeness toward the sisters and to the + prescription labels that I wrote for them, I obtained fortunately a cutlet + 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 packed together, + pell-mell, in the wards, but during the first days I could not succeed + even in swallowing the meagre morning dole. It was inspection hour, and + the doctor chose that moment to perform his operations. The second 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 avoid seeing 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 grew accustomed to it; soon I + contented myself by merely turning my head away and keeping my soup. + </p> + <p> + In the mean while the situation became intolerable. We tried, but in vain, + to procure newspapers and books; we were reduced to masquerading, to + donning the hussar’s vest for fun. This puerile fooling quickly wore + itself out, and stretching ourselves every twenty minutes, exchanging a + few words, we dive our heads into the bolsters. + </p> + <p> + There was not much conversation to be drawn from our comrades. The two + artillerymen and the hussar were too sick to talk. The dragoon swore by + the name of heaven, saying nothing, got up every instant, enveloped in his + great white mantle, and went to the wash-bowls, whose sloppy condition he + reported by means of his bare feet. There were some old saucepans lying + about in which the convalescents pretended to cook, offering their stew in + jest to the sisters. + </p> + <p> + There remained, then, only the soldier of the line: an unfortunate + grocer’s clerk, father of a child, called to the army, stricken constantly + by fever, shivering under his bedclothes. + </p> + <p> + Squatting, tailor-fashion, on our bed, we listen to him recount the battle + in which he was picked up. Cast out near Froeschwiller, on a plain + surrounded with woods, he had seen the red flashes shoot by in bouquets of + white smoke, and he had ducked, trembling, bewildered by the cannonading, + wild with the whistling of the balls. He had marched, mixed in with the + regiments, through the thick mud, not seeing a single Prussian, not + knowing in what direction they were, hearing on all sides groans, cut by + sharp cries, then the ranks of the soldiers placed in front of him, all at + once turned, and in the confusion of flight he had been, without knowing + how, thrown to the ground. He had picked himself up and had fled, + abandoning his gun and knapsack, and at last, worn out by the forced + marches endured for eight days, undermined by fear, weakened by hunger, he + had rested himself in a trench. He had remained there dazed, inert, + stunned by the roar of the bombs, resolved no longer to 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 and shriveled at the bottom of + his pockets. + </p> + <p> + An officer had passed meanwhile, revolver in hand, had called him + “coward,” and threatened to break his head if he did not march. He had + replied: “That would please me above all things. Oh, that this would end!” + But the officer at the very moment he was shaking him on to his feet was + stretched out, the blood bursting, spurting from his neck. Then fear took + possession of him; he fled and succeeded in reaching a road far off, + overrun with the flying, black with troops, furrowed by gun-carriages + whose dying horses broke and crushed the ranks. + </p> + <p> + They succeeded at last in putting themselves under shelter. The cry of + treason arose from the groups. Old soldiers seemed once more resolved, but + the recruits refused to go on. “Let them go and be killed,” they said, + indicating the officers; “that’s their profession. As for me I have + 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 sick who + were allowed to take refuge in the ambulances. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, how afraid one gets, and, then, how one holds in the ear the voices + of men calling for their mothers and begging for something to drink,” he + added, shivering all over. He paused, and, looking about the corridor with + an air of content, he continued: “It’s all the same, I am very happy to be + here; and then, as it is, my wife can write to me,” and he drew from his + trousers pocket some letters, saying with satisfaction: “The little one + has written, look!” and he points out at the foot of the paper under his + wife’s labored handwriting, some up-and-down strokes forming a dictated + sentence, where there were some “I kiss papas” in blots of ink. + </p> + <p> + We listened twenty times at least to that story, and we had to suffer + during mortal hours the repetitions of that man, delighted at having a + child. We ended by stopping our ears and by trying to sleep so as not to + hear him any more. + </p> + <p> + This deplorable life threatened to prolong itself, when one morning + Francis, who, contrary to his habit, had been prowling around the whole of + the evening before in the courtyard, says to me: “I say, Eugène, come out + 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 is empty; by + climbing onto the roofs of the outhouses, and that is easy, thanks to the + gratings that ornament the windows, we can reach the coping of the wall; + we jump and we tumble into the country. Two steps from the wall is one of + the gates of Evreux. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + I say—I say that I am quite willing to go out, but how shall we get + back? + </p> + <p> + “I do not know anything about that; first let us get out, we will plan + afterward. Come, get up, they are going to serve the soup; we jump the + wall after.” + </p> + <p> + I get up. The hospital lacked water, so much so that I was reduced to + washing in the seltzer water which the sister had had sent to me. I take + my siphon, I mark the painter who cries fire, I press the trigger, the + discharge hits him full in his face; then I place myself in front of him, + I receive the stream in my beard, I rub my nose with the lather, I dry my + face. We are ready, we go downstairs. The field is deserted; we scale the + wall; Francis takes his measure and jumps. I am sitting astride 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; in the distance, a + forest that sways and shows its rents of golden red against a band of pale + blue. I stand up; I hear a noise in the court; I jump; we skirt the walls; + we are in Evreux! + </p> + <p> + Shall we eat? Motion adopted. + </p> + <p> + Making our way in search of a resting-place, we perceive two little women + 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 a light room hung + with paper spotted with lilac blossoms and green leaves; there are at the + casements damask curtains of red currant color, a mirror over the + fireplace, an engraving representing a Christ tormented by the Pharisees. + Six chairs of cherry wood and a round table with an oilcloth showing the + kings of France, a bedspread with eiderdown of pink muslin. We set the + table, we look with greedy eye at the girls moving about. It takes a long + time to get things ready, for we stop them for a kiss in passing; for the + rest, they are ugly and stupid enough. But what is that to us? It’s so + long since we have scented the mouth of woman! + </p> + <p> + I carve the chicken; the corks fly, we drink like topers, we eat like + ogres. The coffee steams in the cups; we gild it with cognac; my + melancholy flies away, the punch kindles, the blue flames of the + Kirschwasser leap in the salad bowl, the girls giggle, their hair in their + 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 the arms of + our hostesses, we go out at double quick. + </p> + <p> + “How to get in?” says the painter. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + We get there; we ring; the sister concierge is about to open the door for + us and stands amazed. We salute her, and I say loud enough to be heard by + her: + </p> + <p> + “I say, do you know, they are not very amiable at that commissariat; the + fat one specially received us only more or less civilly.” + </p> + <p> + The sister breathes not a word. We run at a gallop for the messroom; it + was time, I heard the voice of Sister Angèle who was distributing the + rations. I went to bed as quickly as possible, I covered with my hand a + spot my beauty had given me the length of my neck; the sister looks at me, + finds in my eyes an unwonted sparkle, and asks with interest: “Are your + pains worse?” + </p> + <p> + I reassure her and reply: “On the contrary, sister, I am better; but this + idleness and this imprisonment are killing me.” + </p> + <p> + When I speak of the appalling ennui that is trying me, sunk in this + company, in the midst of the country, far from my own people, she does not + reply, but her lips close tight, her eyes take on an indefinable + expression of melancholy and of pity. One day she said to me in a dry + tone: “Oh, liberty’s worth nothing to you,” alluding to a conversation she + had overheard between Francis and me, discussing the charming allurements + of Parisian women; then she softened and added with her fascinating little + moue: “You are really not serious, Mr. Soldier.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning we agreed, the painter and I, that as soon as the soup + was swallowed, we would scale the wall again. At the time appointed we + prowl about the field; the door is closed. “Bast, worse luck!” says + Francis, “<i>En avant!</i>” and he turns toward the great door of the + hospital. I follow him. The sister in charge asks where we are going. “To + the commissariat.” The door opens, we are outside. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the grand square of the town, in front of the church, I + perceive, as we contemplate the sculptures of the porch, a stout gentleman + with a face like a red moon bristling with white mustaches, who stares at + us in astonishment. We stare back at him, boldly, and continue 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, and I find there a name + that sets me dreaming. I did not know, to tell the truth, the person who + bore it, but that name recalled to me memories long since effaced. I + remembered that one of my friends had a relation in a very high position + in the town of Evreux. “It is absolutely necessary for me to see him,” I + say to the painter; I ask his address of the café-keeper; he does not know + it; I go out and visit all the bakers and the druggists that I meet with. + Every one eats bread and takes medicine; it is impossible that one of + those manufacturers should not know 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 ring gently, in the Rue Chatrain, at the iron grating + of a private residence which rears its brick facade and slate roofs in the + clearing of a sunny park. A servant lets me in. Monsieur de Fréchêdé is + absent, but Madame is at home. I wait for a few seconds in a salon; the + portière is raised and 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. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” she says with a kind smile, “I have often heard speak of your + family. I think, even, that I have met at Madame Lezant’s, madame, your + mother, during my last journey to Paris; you are welcome here.” + </p> + <p> + We talked a long time; I, somewhat embarrassed, covering with my képi the + spot on my neck; she trying to persuade me to accept some money, which I + refuse. + </p> + <p> + 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 them to send + me back to Paris, you would render me a great service; communications will + be interrupted very soon, if the newspapers are to be believed; they talk + of another <i>coup d’état</i>, or the overthrow of the Empire; I have + great need of seeing my mother again; and especially of not letting myself + be taken prisoner here if the Prussians come.” + </p> + <p> + In the mean while Monsieur de Fréchêdé enters. In two words he is made + acquainted with the situation. + </p> + <p> + “If you wish to come with me to the doctor of the hospital,” he says, “you + have no time to lose.” + </p> + <p> + To the doctor! Good heavens! and how account to him for my absence from + the hospital? I dare not breathe a word; I follow my protector, asking + myself how it will all end. We arrive; the doctor looks at me with a + stupefied air. I do not give him time to open his mouth, and I deliver + with prodigious volubility a string of jeremiads over my sad position. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Fréchêdé in his turn takes up the argument, and asks him, in + my favor, to give me a convalescent’s leave of absence for two months. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is, in fact, sick enough,” says the doctor, “to be entitled to + two months’ rest; if my colleagues and if the General look at it as I do + your protégé will be able in a few days to return to Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s good,” replies Monsieur de Fréchêdé. “I thank you, doctor; I will + speak to the General myself to-night.” + </p> + <p> + We are in the street; I heave a great sigh of relief; I press the hand of + that excellent man who shows so kindly an interest in me. I run to find + Francis again. We have but just time to get back; we arrive at the gate of + the hospital; Francis rings; I salute the sister. She stops me: “Did you + not tell me this morning that you were going to the commissariat?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! the General has just left here. Go and see the director and + Sister Angèle; they are waiting for you; you will explain to them, no + doubt, the object of your visits to the commissariat.” + </p> + <p> + We remount, all crestfallen, the dormitory stairs. Sister Angèle is there, + who waits for us, and who says: + </p> + <p> + “Never could I have believed such a thing! You have been all over the + city, yesterday and to-day, and Heaven knows what kind of life you have + been leading!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, really!” I exclaim. + </p> + <p> + She looked at me so fixedly that I breathed not another word. + </p> + <p> + “All the same,” she continued, “the General himself met you on the Grand + Square to-day. I denied that you had gone out, and I searched for you all + over the hospital. The General was right, you were not here. He asked me + for your names; I gave him the name of one of you, I refused to reveal the + other, and I did wrong, that is certain, for you do not deserve it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how much I thank you, my sister!” But Sister Angèle did not listen to + 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. + </p> + <p> + In the mean time Francis was summoned before the director, and since, I do + 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 the + sisters, he was informed that he must leave the hospital the following day + and join his corps at once. + </p> + <p> + “Those huzzies with whom we dined yesterday are licensed women, who have + sold us; it was the director himself who told me,” he declared furiously. + </p> + <p> + All the time we are cursing the jades and lamenting over our uniforms + which made us so recognizable, the rumor runs that the Emperor is taken + prisoner and that the Republic has been proclaimed at Paris; I give a + franc to an old man who was allowed to go out and who brings me a copy of + the “Gaulois.” The news is true. The hospital exults, Badinguet fallen! it + is not too soon; good-by to the war that is ended at last. + </p> + <p> + The following morning Francis and I, we embrace and he departs. “Till we + meet again,” he shouts to me as he shuts the gate; “and in Paris!” + </p> + <p> + Oh, the days that followed that day! What suffering! what desolation! + Impossible to leave the hospital; a sentinel paced up and down, in my + honor, before the door. I had, however, spirit enough not to try to sleep. + I paced like a caged beast in the yard. I prowled thus for the space of + twelve hours. I knew my prison to its smallest cranny. I knew the spots + where the lichens and the mosses pushed up through the sections of the + wall which had given way in cracking. Disgust for my corridor, for my + truckle-bed flattened out like a pancake, for my linen rotten 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 a troubled soul, + under the arcades whitewashed with yellow ochre the same as the wards, + coming back to the grated entrance gate surmounted by a flag, mounting to + the first floor where my bed was, descending to where the kitchen shone, + flashing the sparkle of its red copper through the bare nakedness of the + scene. I gnawed my fists with impatience, watching at certain hours the + mingled coming and going of civilians and soldiers, passing and repassing + on every floor, filling the galleries with their interminable march. + </p> + <p> + I had no longer any strength left to resist the persecution of the + sisters, who drove us on Sunday into the chapel. I became a monomaniac; + one fixed idea haunted me; to flee as quickly as possible that lamentable + jail. With that, money worry oppressed me. My mother had forwarded a + hundred francs to me at Dunkirk, where it seems I ought to be. The money + never appeared. I saw the time when I should not have a sou to buy either + paper or tobacco. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the days passed. The De Fréchêdés seemed to have forgotten me, + and I attributed their silence to my escapades, of which they had no doubt + been informed. Soon to all these anxieties were added horrible pains: + ill-cared for and aggravated by my chase after petticoats, my bowels + became inflamed. I suffered so that I came to fear I should no longer be + able to bear the journey. I concealed my sufferings, fearing the doctor + would force me to stay longer at the hospital. I keep my bed for a few + days; then, as I felt my strength diminishing, I wished to get up, in + spite of all, and I went downstairs into the yard. Sister Angèle no longer + spoke to me, and in the evening, while she made her rounds in the corridor + and in the mess, turning so as not to notice the sparks of the forbidden + pipes that glowed in the shadows, she passed before me, indifferent, cold, + turning away her eyes. One morning, however, when I had dragged myself + into the courtyard and sunk down on every bench to rest, she saw me so + changed, so pale, that she could not keep from a movement of compassion. + In the evening, after she had finished her visit to 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 moon cast through the windows of the + corridor, when the door at the farther end 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 passed before the casements or along the + walls, Sister Angèle, who was coming toward 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.” I spring up in my bed, my face + brightens, I wanted to jump and sing; never was I happier. Morning rises. + I dress, and uneasy, nevertheless, I direct my way to the room where sits + a board of officers and doctors. + </p> + <p> + One by one the soldiers exhibit their bodies gouged with wounds or bunched + with hair. The General scraped one of his finger nails, the Colonel of the + Gendarmerie {8} fans himself with a newspaper; the practitioners talk + among themselves as they feel the men. My turn comes at last. They examine + me from head to foot, they press down on my stomach, swollen and tense + like a balloon, and with a unanimity of opinion the council grants me a + convalescent’s leave of sixty days. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 8 Armed police. +</pre> + <p> + I am going at last to see my mother, to recover my curios, my books! I + feel no more the red-hot iron that burns my entrails; I leap like a kid! + </p> + <p> + I announce to my family the good news. My mother writes me letter after + letter, wondering why I do not come. Alas! my order of absence must be + countersigned at the division headquarters at Rouen. It comes back after + five days; I am “in order”; I go to find Sister Angèle; I beg her to + obtain for me before the time fixed for my departure permission to go into + the city to thank De Fréchêdé, who have been so good to me. She goes to + look for the director and brings me back permission. I run to the house of + those kind people, who force me to accept a silk handkerchief and fifty + francs for the journey. I go in search of my papers at the commissariat. I + return to the hospital, I have but a few minutes to spare. I go in quest + of Sister Angèle, whom I find in the garden, and I say to her with great + emotion: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear Sister, I am leaving; how can I ever repay you for all that you + have done for me?” + </p> + <p> + 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 wicked + acquaintances on the journey.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not fear, my Sister, I promise you!” + </p> + <p> + The hour strikes; the door opens; I hurry off to the station; I jump into + 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 of the window; + I see some pollarded trees, the tops of a few hills that undulate away + into the distance, a bridge astride of a great pond that sparkles 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 wires that stripe the + ultramarine sky with their black lines, when the train stops, the + travellers who are about me descend, the door shuts, then opens again and + makes way for a young woman. While she seats herself and arranges her + dress, I catch a glimpse of her face under the displacing of 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 of ripe corn. I engage + her in conversation. She is called Reine; embroiders flowers; we chat like + old friends. Suddenly she turns pale, and is about to faint. I open the + windows, I offer her a bottle of salts which I have carried with me ever + since my departure from Paris; she thanks me, it is nothing, she says, and + she leans on my knapsack and tries to sleep. Fortunately we are alone in + the compartment, but the wooden partition that divides into equal parts + the body of the carriage comes up only as far as the waist, and one can + see and above all hear the clamor and the coarse laughter of the country + men and women. I could have thrashed them with hearty good will, these + imbeciles who were troubling her sleep! I contented myself with listening + to the commonplace opinions which they exchanged 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 of the last station, “You will not get to + Paris, the rails are torn up at Mantes,” returned in my dreams like an + obstinate refrain. I open my eyes. My neighbor wakes up, too; I do not + wish to share my fears with her; we talk in a low voice. She tells me that + she is going to join her mother at Sèvres. “But,” I say to her, “the train + will scarcely enter Paris before eleven o’clock to-night. You will never + have time to reach the landing on the left bank.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I do?” she says, “if my brother is not down at my arrival?” + </p> + <p> + Oh, misery, I am as dirty as a comb and my stomach burns! I can not dream + of taking her to my bachelor lodgings, and then I wish before all to see + my mother. What to do? I look at Reine with distress. I take her hand; at + that moment the train takes a curve, the jerk throws her forward; our lips + approach, they touch, I press mine; she turns red. Good heavens, her mouth + moves imperceptibly; she returns my kiss; a long thrill runs up my spine; + at contact of those ardent embers my senses fail. Oh! Sister Angèle, + Sister Angèle! a man can not make himself over! And the train roars and + rolls onward, without slackening speed; we are flying under full steam + toward Mantes; my fears are vain; the track is clear. Reine half shuts her + eyes; her head falls on my shoulder; her little waves of hair tangle with + my beard and tickle my lips. I put my arm about her waist, which yields, + and I rock her. Paris is not far; we pass the freight-depots, by the + roundhouses where the engines roar in red vapor, getting up steam; the + train stops; they take up the tickets. After reflection, I will take Reine + to my bachelor rooms, provided her brother is not waiting her arrival. We + descend from the carriage; her brother is there. “In five days,” she says, + with a kiss, and the pretty bird has flown. Five days after I was in my + bed, atrociously sick, and the Prussians occupy Sèvres. Never since then + have I seen her. + </p> + <p> + My heart is heavy. I heave a deep sigh; this is not, however, the time to + be sad! I am jolting on in a fiacre. I recognize the neighborhood; I + arrive before my mother’s house; I dash up the steps, four at a time. I + pull 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, looks at me once + more, and hugs me again. Meanwhile the servant has stripped the buffet. + “You must be hungry, M. Eugène?” I should think I was hungry! I devour + everything they give me. I toss off great glasses of wine; to tell the + truth, I do not know what I am eating and what I am drinking! + </p> + <p> + At length I go to my rooms to rest, I find my lodging just as I left it. I + run through it, radiant, then I sit down on the divan and I rest there, + ecstatic, beatific, feasting my eyes with the view of my knickknacks and + my books. I undress, however; I splash about in a great tub, rejoicing + that for the first time in many months I am going to get into a clean bed + with white feet and toenails trimmed. I spring onto the mattress, which + rebounds. I dive my head into the feather pillow, my eyes close; I soar on + full wings into the land of dreams. + </p> + <p> + I seem to see Francis, who is lighting his enormous wooden pipe, and + Sister Angèle, who is contemplating me with her little moue; then Reine + advances toward me, I awake with a start, I behave like an idiot, I sink + back again up to my ears, but the pains in my bowels, calmed for a moment, + awake, now that the nerves become less tense, and I rub my stomach 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 that one must have lived in + the promiscuosity of hospitals and camps to appreciate the value of a + basin of water, to appreciate the solitude where modesty may rest at ease. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sac-Au-Dos, by Joris Karl Huysmans + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAC-AU-DOS *** + +***** This file should be named 23216-h.htm or 23216-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/2/1/23216/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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