MARIE'S STORY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5861, 1 May 1897, Page 2

MARIE'S STORY.

(Pall Mall Magazine.) How angry we were with the Prussians when the war broke out in 1870, and how we despised them ! We who lived in Ablis knew all about the matter, and how the Prussians had threatened us, and how their king had spat upon our flag ! We read of it all, and those of us who had known a Prussian went to mass so that this sin should be forgiven ; as fov me, I knew none of these creatures, but I went to pray to the Holy Mother that she would destroy all of them, for they were enemies of dear France. There were only nine hundred people altogether in Ablis before the fire,* and more than half of the young men were called out to join the grand army which was to march'fco Berlin. There waß much sorrowing and much rejoicing when they left Ablis ; the lads rejoicing because they ■were going to humble the Prussians, and the women weeping at the parting. Not that we thought there would be any danger, for the Prussians were always pigs who would run away when our gallant armies marched on them; besides, our Emperor had thousands of that terrible weapon, the mitrailleuse, which would destroy whole regiments at a mile off. One had but to turn a handle, and biff I—' the Prussians would fall to the earth iu long rows. Our lads would cut down the enemy as they reaped the corn at home. We saw pictures in the Paris journals showing just how it would be done, and I wished — oh, how I wished that I could be a soldier and turn a handle and kill a regiment of the pigs 1 And yet I wept when I had to say farewell to my brother Theodore. We had never been parted before, and I could not bear to think that I should not see him when it was time to say "good-night," for be able to call to him in the morning, " Lazy one, the morning will turn to night while you are snoring I" before he would come down yawning, and stretching his great limbs. All ! we were so fond of him — mothor, and father, and I — so proud of him, too; for he was so good, though he did like sleep ; and when he did get to work there was iio one in the village worked harder than he. And when I stood beside him weeping, Pierre Dubond, who had come to bid hhn farewell, whispered that he would gladly go with Theodore if I would weep over him so and be as sorry to part from him. But just then I felt that I could not weop for any one but Theodore ; it was only my brother that filled my heart, and Pierre and Joseph Dubond had no place there. And yet for months past I had been been asking my heart which it cared for most, Pierre or Joseph ; I liked them both, and Sunday after Sunday they had both waited after mass to walk home with me, and both had brought my mother presents when they had been to the town, and Pierre had given my father a beautiful pipe, and Joseph had given hirn a picture — a battle picture: my father had been a soldier, and he was so pleased with this gift that he said at once that Joseph would be the husband for me. But I liked them both. Pierre was so gay, always laughing and joking ; it was impossible to be sad when one was with him. As for Joseph, he was quiet and thoughtful, but his words were always so sweet ; he never frowned or got angry, as Pierre did sometimes, never grumbled when things went wrong on his father's farm ; and when he was with mo it was like the hush before the night falls, when one's soul thinks of Heaven, and the Holy Mother, and the goodness that is for us all. Neither Pierre nor Joseph was called to join the Grand Army ; they were exempt, and they went with me to the railway station, which was a long walk away, to Bee Theodore get into the train that would take him to Pans, where ho was to join his depOt, and be sent, so he said, from there to his regiment, which was about to march on Berlin. We all sang, as we marched down the road, songs of war, songs which made me long to go to Berlin with Theodore, songs which sent the blood throbbing through my veins until I was mad with anger against the Prussians. Then we had to say good-bye, and I saw the train bear my brother away from me, and I hated the Prussians worse than ever that they should tear our Theodore from us ; and I thought of my father and mother weeping for him in that lonely little farmhouse, and I prayed with all my strength that the good God should send down fire from heaven and consume all those wicked enemies of ours who brought about such misery. Then slowly we tramped home again, many of us from our village; and Pierre and Joseph walked One on either side of mo, and Pierre tried to be merry, thinking that his jests would cheer me; but my heart was sore, and they fell on it heavily and made it ache the more. Joseph said nothing, but held my hand. When we reached home Pierre bade me cheer tip, for he loved me dearly but Josoph whispered only that Theodore was so bravo and true that there was no one like him, and though the wordß made me weop the more, I was com-, forted that others should love our brave Theodore and miss him, and I thought that next to my brother and my dear parents I loved Joseph the most. Then each day after they came to out house, and they helped my father on the farm when they had done ' their own work, and told us all the news of the war— how tin traitor Bavarians had turned against us, and how all the southern Germans who had hated and fought against the Prussians hid now joined them because they feared ub so much. And then came the tidings that our army was on German soil, and my father made the neighbours come in and

have Bivpper and drink to Theodore's health, and to the health of all the gallant lads who had left Ablis to fight for their country ! Later pn we heard that our soldiers had recrossed the frontier ; and avo could not understand why they had done so instead of marching forward to Berlin, until my father told us that it was sometimes wise to seem to retreat in order to draw the enemy from a strong position, so that those who appeared to fly could turn and destroy those who followed them when the right moment arrived; and that Avas what our generals were doing he said. But there followed rumours of defeat and of losses. True, there came at first accounts of brave victories, but after them came the sad news that our soldiers were retreating, retreating, ever retreating ! " One does not always retreat to defeat the enemy ! " my father would say gloomily; and the hot days of summer seemed never-ending vrhen we had no news of Theodore. Sometimes, just at first, letters came, but after a Avhilenone at all. He was with the army commanded by Marshal Bazaine, and we read of the awful battles before Motz,. where -our men sometimes did wonders, driving the enemy before them like chaff, and only needing a leader to force them from our country altogether. But although they Avon their battles, still they retreated, until at length we heard that they were shut up in Metz ! "A Frenchman must advance, or he will throw away his sword!" said my father,and his words came to be true, as Ave kneAV on that sorrowful Oct. 27. But that time of waiting, not knowing whether Theodore was alive, or a eaint in heaven, or whether ho was lying ■wounded, lonely and wretched, or if he was still able to fire upon the enemies of his country, the foes of his forefathers, the Prussians who desecrated the soil of France and feared nothing of the wrath of the good God! 11l tidings followed on the heels of those before them ; we learned that hordes of savage Germans were over-running the country, cruel and merciless ; savage boors who worshipped no God; lost atheists and unbelievers who desecrated our churches, turning them into barracks and stablea, who swarmed in countless thousands into France, until at last it was Baid that they were marching upon xis — upon Ablis! The Government at Tours on Oct. 1 called upon all. Frenchmen to take up arms ; and my father and others who had "been soldiers drilled the young men of our village every evening after tho day's Avork was over, and the women would look on and learn the words of command until Ave knew how to Avheel and turn or deploy as well as our men. Pierre and Joseph both drilled well, and there were not Avanting guns for all who could handle them. Poor -weapons they were against the modern •breechloaders, myfather wonlclsay ; btittliat would make victory all the brighter ! A few victories over the Germans and all France would rise and SAveep the enemy into the sea; and if every village and every town offered such resistance tho foe would grow tired of alwavs fighting, always losing men — so said my father. But he did not mean to march out and offer battle; it would bo folly, he said, to pit raw volunteers against tried soldiers, even though the volunteers were •Frenchmen and the others only Germans. He proposed to harass the enemy, cut off their supplies, starve them, keep them constantly in fear of a surprise, attack them in ambush, advance, strike, retreat, and be ready to strike again so quickly that the heaviest blow should be given and never returned. That is the art of war, he told those whom he drilled — risk little and strike hard until the right time comes, and then risk all, risk every life, march then to victory, but die rather than retreat. Our francs-tireurs were joined by others from neighbouring villages, ,until they made a regiment of about three hundred in all, commanded by an old soldier who had been in Mexico, in Algeria — every-, where where the men of France havo wrestled with death. . My father Avas an officer, a sous-lieutenant, and I longed to see him in the uniform which the Government promised to send for all men who took up arms, but which never came. As ,it was, the francs-tireurs were in blouses such as they woro in the field, but each wore a cockade, to show that he was a labourer for the field of battle. When the news came that the Germans were marching upon our village, the young men wished to take up arms and go to meet them, but my father counselled otherwise. He said that the francs-tireurs must assemble a little distance off> and wait until night came, and then surprise the enemy : this would be a glorious opportunity of striking terror into the hearts of the Prussians and their king,, and the Buccess would fire the Avhole country. •And so it was agreed ; and when, on a bright autumn afternoon, a squadron of hussars and a company of infantry marched up the village street, they found but the women and boys and a few old men in the fields or in the village. " Where are the men ?" demanded their captain, a great bearded giant, so haughtily that I could have struck him in his face although 1 had died the next minute for it ; but I thought of the night that was coming, and my father and Pierre and Joseph looking along their guns, and my face burned with joy because of the coming fate for the savages, and I said nothing, and some of our women replied that the men had all gone to the wars. The Germans fastened their horses in our stables, and sat down at our tables, and ate up Avhat we had Avorked so hard for, three of them coming to our house. They were not rude to my mother or to me, but they laughed and joked in our house of sorrow, and ate until it seemed they would ruin us ; but we said nothing, butgave them all they asked for and Avaited for the night. Then before the sun was down I went into tho orchard, for I could not bear to look upon these great strong men so full of life and think that they must soon be cold and dead. I tried to remember that they deserved to die for coming into our France, but after a while „ I began to wonder whether they too had sisters, or — or — friends that felt towards them as I felt to Pierre and to JosephH-especially to Joseph. I sat there with a heavy heart to think that in such a beautiftil world men kill one another and never call it murder, but Avar ; and I asked the Holy Mother to forgive me if I had done wrong in wishing the good God to destroy all the German soldiers, for now I could not bear to think of these three dying Avho Avere in our house. I ivatehed. the shadows lengthen, and listened to the bee3 buzzing home, and the rooks telling of the day's Avork on the old trees in the near Avoods ; and the scent of the late roses filled the air Arith sweetuess, and death was hovering so near. As I sat there listening to the Germans who wero. singing, perhaps as they had often sung at home so far away, I heard Joseph's voice calling my name softly. Hastily I turned, and there he was almost lost in the deep shadow of a chestnut tree, and I ran to him. "Is it time already ?" I cried, and my heart Avas faint Avith fear and heavy with grief for those who must die without warning. It is so terrible to die before one has had time to intike peace with the good God s0 terrible that I shudder now as I think of it. He shook his head sadly, and I noticed that he had no gun with him and no cockade in his hat. " Have avo decided to spare them ?" I asked him. A fain he shook his head. "What then? Where is my father? where is Pierre ?" He pointed to the Avoods, and looked into my eyes Avith such sorrow in his own that I saw a great trouble was on his soul, too. " Why are you not with them ? Tell me," I whispered. ' * " Marie, I could not do it ! Not even to win you \" "Do what? Do what?" I Cried impatiently. "Quick! Say it!" Even then he ansAvered me slowly, as if

every word was being dragged out of , him. " I could not fire upon sleeping men. j told your father so. He called me coward : he said that the women would drive me from the village ! But I could not join him ! " Only a moment before I had been pitying the Prussians and dreading the coming of the night, but now that I heard my own thoughts put into words I was ashamed. And besides, I was so fond of Joseph that it hurt me that any one should call him coward. It wounded my pride and — yes— my love, and I turned upon him angrily. "And so you have deserted my father and the brave Pierre ! You are no soldier, and they are right when they call you a coward. France is ashamed of you, and I also ! I blush to think that I once cared for you ! " He did not answer me, but looked at mo again with sad, sad eyes, and went away as silently as he had come. Then I went indoors, and, as my father had directed, my mother and I went into my room, and fastened ourselves in, and waited. It was past midnight when our regiment came, and tho Prussians, save those on sentry duty, were all asleep. My father told me of it all, afterwards. The francs-tireurs separated into four small bands, two of which entered the village from either end, while another crept' act oss the fields at the back. The fourth company was stationed just outside as a reserve, and to prevent any Prussians escaping by the road by which they had come. Stealthily our men crept on, each one with his gun loaded, and most of them with long knives ready in their belts, for only a few had s words. The sentries never suspected that death was so near, and they were surprised ; and then at the first shots the Prussians came rushing into the road. Although they were taken by surprise, they fought bravely, my father said, but it was useless against our lads. Some were shot, and a few escaped or ran off, and the rest surrendered. Hew proud we women were of our heroes ! We came down into the street and saw the haughty Prussians subdued, and I forgot my sorrow for those who were dead in the fever of victory. We toid each other how every village would account for two hundred Germans as we had done, until at length thero would be none left, and then the prisoners would bo guarded by the women, and the men would join all together and march upon Berlin •and humble the Prussian king in his own Palace. I kissed Pierre before them all, and told him how proud I was of him, and my father said he would be a husband who could take care of a wife; and then I helped my mother to bind up the wounds of the men, Germans as well as Frenchmen, for we made no distinction now that' they were not our masters but our prisoners. The joy of our victory soon passed away, for very soon we heard that another and stronger force of the enemy was marching upon us. The captain of our francs-tireurs withdrew his men from the village, with such of the prisoners as were able to travel ; for, he said, Ave should be- safe, because the Prussians would not harm women or old men. And in the afternoon a full regiment of Prussians with more hussars and with cannon marched in. The officer in command, a colonel, asked for tho mayor, but he was with the francs-tireurs, he and all the men excepting some who were too old ; so ho ordered all the villagers, old and young, to be brought before him, and like a flock of sheep driven by wolves we came from farmhouse and cottage. He called the Cure, an old man, to him, and before us all told him that he was one of a ribe of murderers— he, the good Cure, who had never armed anyone in his life, and had come straight from the bedsides of the wounded Germans. "You of this village," shouted the Colonel, his face red up to his eyes with anger, " have fired upon sleeping men, shot down my unarmed fellow-countrymen, abused the laws of hospitality, and broken the codes of nations. We did not come here to make war upon an unarmed people, but only upon your emperor and his soldiers ! We treated you well, and this is tho reward we have. Eemember that henceforth every peasant caught 'armed Avill be shot without mercy, and that as a punishment for the crime already committed this village and tho next will be burned doAvn." p There was such a wail from some of the women as would have melted any but a German's heart; but some of us remembered that for the honour of France we must show no fear, and so my mother and I shed no tears and said no Arord. But the Cure pleaded against the inhumanity of making us homeless; he reminded the Colonel that years before, when Prussia was invaded, their king had said that there should be a Landsturm, an uprising of every man capable of bearing arms, and our francs-tireurs were but the same. "•They havo no uniform; they are not soldiers; they must and shall die!" shouted the Colonel. The soldiers took torches and began their cruel work, while the Curo made us kneel around him and pray for strength to support us in this our day of great trial. And when we rose up from our knees the village was burning in a dozen places, and a long line of soldiers kept the people back ; our house was some, way apart, and thither my mother and I Avent to watch with breaking hearts the destruction of our homo. But we Avould not Aveep ; Ave stood and watched, until suddenly my mother, Avith a cry,? rushed aAvay from me into the burning house, past the soldiers— to fetch Theodore's portrait. Th,e soldiers held me back Avhen I would have gone after her, and two of them tried to enter the house — they Avere not afraid of death although they Avere Germans — but a black cloud of smoke drove them back ! Then avo saw my mother at the upper window trying to get out of it, but the window Avas small, and she could not ! Two men in blouses came up, and running into tho yard they fetched a cart, Avhich they put on end, and one borrowed a sword-bayonet from a soldier, and the tAvo climbed up the cart, the one with the bayonet upon the other's shoulders, and he hacked and hewed until the AvindoAv fell aAvay. The smoke and flames Avere rushing out ' now, and those two brave men staggered; but tho one above had my mother in his arms, and he pulled her out, and all three fell to the ground together. Then the soldiers carried them to the other side of the road, and brought Avater"; but my mother's arm was broken, and she was unconscious. I was so frightened about her that at first I did not see Avho they Avere who had rescued her, but when the German, Doctor came and had bandaged her arm I saw that they were Pierre and Joseph ! Joseph had heard' that the Germans meant to burn the village, and had gone to the francs-tireurs to beg them to protect us; but none of them would believe the neAvs excepting Pierre, Avho had got leave to come, and with Joseph had hidden in the woods near our house to watch over us. Both wore injured, and Joseph had one arm and tAvo or three ribs broken, and each was black with smoke and scorched with fire, but both smiled upon me Avhen at last I lcneAv them, and wept over them, and kissed them. When the doctor went to them their cockades were found in their pockets, and they were knoAvn to belong to the francstireurs, and the cruel colonel ordered them to be shot ! Then I forgot my pride, and I knelt at tho Prussian's feet, and I begged most pitaously for their lives ; I humbled myself, I called him great and. good and chivalrous — but' he Avas none of these, only hard and stern. But at last I Avearied him, for he said that one only should be shot, and they could draw lots ; and then he went away. I felt that my heart was breaking! I coxild not be ( ar to part with either of them. If they had not come to our assistance they would hr.ve been safe ! They drew tots, and I shut my eyes and

prayed; oh, how I prayed! Someone whispered that it was Pierre who was to die, and I knelt and prayed with all my soul, but I dared not look! Then there was more talking, and someone said it was Joseph who was to die ; and I could bear it no longer, but ran forward to die with him ; but the soldiers held me back, and I heard the volley * * * and then I heard no more ! Many days afterwards the Cure told me that Joseph had given his life for Pierre for my sake, and the good father's words cut me like whips ! It was my cruel taunt that had sent Joseph to his death, for in my heart 1 always knew that my hero was no coward. The Prussians shot no more of our peasants, for the captain of the francs-tireurs sent word that it' they did so the German prisoners would also be shot, man for man. But this came too late for my happiness ; I could not wed Pierre ; I honoured him, but I loved the dead !