[COMPLETE STORY.] The Cost of the Capture

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXV, Issue 15, 14 October 1905, Page 42

[COMPLETE STORY.] The Cost of the Capture

By

Guy de Maopassant

—I WAS at Kothel that devilIlish winter during the Franco-Prussian war. detached from iny regiment and in charge of a sort of militia organisation which XXXZZXI the people of the town had ft * ISXtI got up. Bethel is an out* 1 ' ' I of the-way place, but it is an old town with traditions and fortifications, and the citizens had determined to resist the invaders and to stand a siege if necessary. Of course most nf their able-bodied men were away in the army; but they bought guns and some old-fashioned artillery that happily never had to be fired oft. and they drilled like good fellows, under my command—all sorts amt conditions of men; butchers and bakers and grocers and lawyers ami notaries and carpenters and even apothecaries. Oh, I tell you. they meant it, too! They were only too anxious for the Prussians to come. But the days and weeks went on. and the Prussians did not come. They were in the neighbourhood, sometimes within eight or ten miles of the town, hut on the other side of the forest. Several times they did enter the forest, but I suppose it was only for wood, or perhaps for game. At any rate, as it turned out. they did not want We know of all their movements, for we had the best sentinel in the world: an old game-keeper and forester who lived in a little house in the very heart <»f the wood, and who could hear a rabbit wag its tail as far ofl*. my friend, as you could see. ’This old man was named Nicolas Pichon, and Berth inc was his daiurhter. She was a line, strapping big girl-—1 think that she and her fijtlVer wore rather superior in every 'way 1 , 51 'physically, mentally ami morally, rt &» Vh v *im»st of the peasants in that rOgio*h. *'■' These thiiigs sometimes happen in a country that has had a few centuries of feudal rule. At any rate, she was what you might call a line figure of a girl, big. plump, rosy, as strong as an ox, and afraid of neither wolves nor Prussians. (In the night of which I speak—"the night that was so like this—-tin* old man had gone into town to notify us that a detachment of Prussian infantry had passed near his house that day. • He generally reported once or twice ,>yeek... and took provisions back with him when he returned. lie lived in a small old stone house eight miles from Bethel; and he made nothing of running the whole distance —running, remember—and back in the course of the evening. He took his two great big hounds with him to defend him from the wolves, which were ferocious in the winter time; and the two women barricaded themselves in the house until his return. They were safe enough there: the house had stood for centuries, and I suppose it is as strong to-day as it ever was. It frightened the old mother to be left in this way. and she sometimes complained to me when I went out tliere. as we officers occasionally did. to get a shot at a deer or a bird. We did not live high that winter al Bethel. I can tell you! I never saw Berthine afraid, however. She simply laughed at the idea of harm coining her way. On this particular evening, after the old man had slipped off in the darkness. Berth inc split the wood for (hat night and tin* next day, drew the water, and. after she had fastened the door, to please lief mother, she set about making soup in the kettle. That is pretty much the staph* diet of those peasants; thin soup for the poor days, cabbage soup for (he rich days. To-night they were to have cabbage soup, so that they might have something good for the father to refresh liini- • self with when he got home. And let mo tell you that old mother Pichon and Bert hi no made a very good cabbage soup for a hungry man. It is not to Im* despised. ' ll was just about this time of night when the two women heard a sound of men marching close t<» the house. The old mother was much alarmed; and she nearly fell oil’ her chair with fright when ah*a haard a musket butt rapping cm the

door. But Berthine only took her father’s heavy revolver down from the chimney piece and slipped it into the pocket of her woollen petticoat, such as our peasants wear; then she listened at the door. She heard a deep bass voice saying with a strong German accent, ‘Open.’ ** ’Who are yon*?’ she asked. “ ’Corporal and live privates.’ said the German voice. ’* ’W hat d<» you want *?’ Berthinc demanded. ” ’There is no one here,' she said, ‘but my old mother and myself.' ’’The officer was a decent sort of fellow —for a Prussian. ” *We don’t want to hurt you.' he said; ‘I give you my word, we’ll make you no trouble; but we’ve got to have something to cat, and we’ve got to rest. My men are almost dead.' ‘•‘Come, in.’ she said, standing back from the door, and they filed in. They dragged their heavy feet as if they had hardy strength enough to take another step, ami they were almost too tired t<> shake off the snow that covered them They sat down wearily on the two bentdies between which stood the table. ‘•‘You do look worn out/ said Berthinv. as she closed the door after them; I’ll make you some soup; it’s the best 1 can do for you.' “She went about it as coolly and unconcernedly as though they had not been present. • She added hot water to increase tin; volume of liquid in the kettle, and then made up its richness by the addition of potatoes,* more cabbage and a great piece of salt pork. The soldiers looked "OH as though they <-ou4d‘ eat ?-H. kei tie aird-all. and it must •have seemed a ~long time to everyone before that ’soup was ready. When it was placed before them-, at-last. they /fell upon it like half-starved creatures, taking it in with brutish noises, and swallowing the potatoes, when they came to them. as though they were strawberries. The privates said nothing, but the corporal grunted in his barbarous accent, ’good, good!' FinaHy he found himself sufficiently fortified to begin to feel like himself again, and he asked Bert him* if there was anything to drink in the house. ‘•‘l have only cider.’’ she answered him. ‘•/Give us some; there's a good girl/ lie said. “Moving thoughtfully, and with something in her manner that probably attracted the attention of the officer, Bert bine took a big. old-fashioned key from the wall, unlocked and opened the great trap-door in the corner of the room, and went down the winding stone steps into the cellar. She was gone a long time; so long a time that the corporal grew uneasy, and when a strange, uncanny sound suddenly broke the stillness, In* drew his revolver quickly and looked across the room at the old woman. She rose trembling’ with affright. “’lt is only the wolves, sir.’ she 01‘ipd. *' ‘Wolves!’ repeated the corporal, incredulously; but he went to the door, and, opening it cautiously, looked out. and saw the gaunt grey shapes prowling about in the snow. •’ ’Well.’ hr said, good-naturedly, as lie bolted the door and returned to his place. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it, old woman. We did better than we knew when we paid you this visit, didn't we*’ And lie shook his great yellow beard in laughter at bis own joke. - ‘•Berthine came up from the collar with the cider, a generous big stone pitcher full, ami s-lip gave it to her uninvited guests with a pleasant smile upon her face. Tlioy had it gulped down in a minute or two, and twice she refilled it for them, each time with a still more pleasant smile upon her face; which, let me assure you, my friend, was a very peculiar thing for a French peasant woman* giving away cider. “By the time they had finished the

third pitcher, fatigue and their heavy drink had so told on them that they began to fall asleep where they sat. “•Stretch yourselves out in front of the lire there/ said Berthine, kindly; ’there’s room enough for you all. Mv mother and I will take our supper over here; and when we are through we will go up to bed. You'd better put on another log.’ “The soldiers stretched themselves out on the stone floor; the two womefi made a hasty meal of what remained of the soup, first secretly setting aside a portion to be kept for the father; and then they climbed up the ladder to the garret that served them as bedchamber. and left the lower storey to their visitors. The flickering firelight played on six bearded Prussian faces; the oaken rafters thrilled with six different kind of Prussian snores. •’They had slept long enough to be at sleep’s heaviest, when a gunshot rang out on the air seemingly far off. yet so exaggerated in loudness by the sounds of the night that it might have come, from under the very eaves. The six soldiers leaped to their feet, and stood gazing at each other in drowsy amazement. Another shot followed at once, and then, after a longer interval, two more. Suddenly a form dropped among them from the low ceiling. It was Berthine, who had swung herself down through the opening from the garret, disdaining the help of the ladder. She had a lighted candle in her hand, and its- yellow flame illuminated her fine figure. -She was *ba rebooted, bare-arfn-ed, and (lad-only in her primitive peasant’s night 4 (IrVss, a chaise linen chemise, and a slrort l petticoat. Iler eyes blazed with anxious excitement. x '* “ ’For heaven's SiFke. get out of the house!' l she cried; ‘it is the French regiment from the ’ town—live hundred of them- and if they find you here' they will burn the house over our heads, and perhaps kill my mother and me for giving you shelter. Make haste, there is no time to be lost!’ And she moved toward the door. The man's face reddened. ‘•’How can we go?'’ he asked, sullenly. *My men would be shot, down in a moment.’ And even as he spoke two more, shots were heard close at hand. Bert him* cast her eyes about her. as if in desperate search of some way out of the difficulty. “‘Get down in the cellar, then.' she. cried, hurriedly, “and keep quiet. I’ll tell you when they are gone.’ “She raised the heavy trap-door. The corporal grinned with delight, slapped her cordially on Ihe shoulder, called her a clever girl; and the six men. with their guns and overcoats, filed noiselessly down the winding stone stairs. As the spike of the last helmet disappeared from sigl(h, let down the trap-door quickly and silently, and the moment it was down she leaped upon it with cat-like rapidity, and. learning over, gave the keg two quick turns. Then. with her strong forefinger,- she cleaned the dust ami dirt of the floor out of two bolt heads at the sides of the trap, and shot the rusty bolts. “Berthine returned to her garret, slipped on her dress and came back to 11n* lower room. In silence she and her

mother began to warm up the soup they had secreted, for it was getting to b< time for the father’s return. But it was not* long before the sound of voices under their feet told them that the suspicions of their captives had beets awakened. Then the butt of a guu thwacked against the under side of the trap-door, and the corporal’s guttural voice called upon them to open. Berthine deigned no response to this command. She was not a woman to waste words; she knew well that hammering down a front door was one thing, and striking up a heavy bolted trap another; and th.it there was no other opening into that cellar of thick masonry save one little grated slit made for ventilation. “‘Open!’ came the niuflled voice of the Prussian, ‘or PH break the door.’ ‘“Break all you want to, niy lad.’ said Berthinc pleasantly, as she stirred the soup. “Berthine was big. healthy and magnanimous. It was her little, old. wrinkled mother, who all these hours had cowered in silent fear, who now burst into a tempest of raging triumph. Crouching over the trap, she hurled gross insults down at her daughter’s captives, calling them hogs and wolves and robbers, imitating their guttural accents and mocking their bad French. "She stopped exhausted as Berthine raised a warning hand. ’ Afar in the woods sounded a strange note, like the screech owl’s, yet. to a forester’s ear unlike. The two women heard it lit spite of the hubbub that the prisoners made, beating on the stone ceiling and firing their guns through the grating to attract the attention of any comrades who might be in search of them. Berthine put het head out of the door and answered with the same cry. It came back again. and again she answered it. t wo great Ilogs burst out of the darkness and leaped Upon hei'. caressing her aiitb whining with pleasure. She held them firmly by their broad leather coF lars, and called ‘to her father, whose tall form could be seen emerging from the thicket. “•Don’t pass in front of the grating! The cellar is full-of Prussians!’’ "The’old man changed his course and entered the house. He gave the two women no further greeting than to repeat interrogatively: "The cellar is full of Prussians?” “ ’Yes.' said the daughter.' calmly. “He sat down at the table; she placed his soup before him. and ho ate steadily on with the stolid gravity of a peasant, while his daughter told her story, punctuated by the blows of musket butts beneath the floor, and the crash of shots tired through the grated slit. The smell of the powder smoke mingled with the scent of the hot soup and the pungent aroma of the wood tire. The story and the soup were finished together. The old man made no comment whatever. He merely said. ‘What shall 1 do now?' and, as he waited for iris •daughter's (reply, (wiped up the soup in the bottom of the kettle with crusts of rye bread, which he fed to his dogs. “ ‘Go back to town.’ said his daughter, ‘and notify the lieutenant.' ‘‘And so I was notified. It was not much over an hour st nd a half later when that tireless old man reached the gates of Rethel. where the outpost brought him in. In ten minutes the call to arms was sounding in every direction; the bells rang, and the whole town was topsy-tu rvy. “They really ilid very well, howevef.

'Had they been regulars they could hardly have been much more prompt in getting oil; and so we went marching through the forest singing and hurrahing, as though we were celebrating the defeat of the whole Prussian anny. instead of the trapping of five pirates and a corporal in a peasant girl’s cellar. “When we reached the cottage all was still and silent. If it had not been for the smell of powder in the air, I should hardly have believed in the existence of the captive Prussians. Berthine opened the door and stood upon the sill, calm and unmoved as thovgh her father had not brought a delegation of 200 French soldiers home with him. 1 do not know how those long and trying hours of waiting had gone with her; but if they had troubled her placid spirit, she gave no sign. Standing in the doorway, she repeated her warning to every one who approached: “•Don’t get in front of the grating!’ “The soldiers were drawn up a couple of hundred fret from the house, and bonfires were lighted for warmth and light. 1 entered the house, and going to the trap-door I addressed the silent cellar: “ • Is there a Prussian officer there/’ “There might have been no one at all there for any answer I got. Again and again I addressed the invisible, but no sound came bark through the floor. T offered that corporal all the blessings o.f f an honourable surrender, but he gave no sign in answer. “Meanwhile something was going on outside that I should not have approved of. My men, of course, were standing at ease. That is to say, they were running. jumping, and stamping to keep their feet warm. Finally some daredevil had discovered that infernal grating. ami nothing would do him but lie must run across its range, as a boy might run across the danger space in the game that we call barren in trance —you call it prisoner’s base, T think. This struck some of the others , as a most amusing sport, and the more. Ilect-. footed kepi it up for a while, without drawing the enemy’s fire. Then there came along a little fat. round baker, named Malet, who was generally called the Bun. on account of his shape. ’1 hey dared the Bun to make the trial; and. of course, he did it. with a funny little trot that made the men laugh. He had got nearly out of range, when a Hash of fire shot' from the grating, and Malet went over on his back with a kick and a howl, throwing his own gun over Ins head. It struck a stone and went oil. Its muzzle pointed almost straight at the grating. We conjectured that it. hit. somebody, for an exclamation came from the cellar, but whether of rage or pain we could not make out. Malet, crawled ami rolled out of danger He was wounded in bis thigh, but not badly. When I had reformed our lines and left Mulct in the surgeon’s hands, 1 returned to the cottage for a council of war, and found Berthine still standing in the doorway, looking at the picturesque scene—the soldiers, the snow, the great fires, the gleaming arms —with the indifferent curiosity of a well-fed cow. •‘•Well, my girl.’ I said, ‘this is a pretty piece of business. You got your men in the cellar; but how are we to get them out : . P . “She answered me in her mat ter-or-tact “‘They drank up all our cider last night; why don’t you give them a drink of water now?’ ‘“What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘“There is the pump,’ she said, pointing to it; ‘and there are gutters under aIF the eaves of the house. Y on can take them down and use them. But you should put them back again.’ “ ‘That was all the council of war. In ten minutes those gutters wore down, stretched from an auger-hole which we made in the trap-door, through the, window, to the nozzle of the big wooden pump. Three men ranged themselves on each side of I he long handle, and in a short time the current of clear icy water was rushing down the line of wooden troughs and pouring a steady stream into the cellar. “The cellar was .qjiuiJl and shalluw; Bui. as you know, it takes a long time to fill even the smallest of cellars through an auger-hole. The snow Had stopped, and the east was, red <,_with morning before we- heard from that eave of gloom any other sound J Imp the steady fall of the water. B-r-r-r! Imt.i.t was. shivering cold, Jhat water! Then we heard the hoarsest Prussian voice that ever was dreamed of, say through the grating: “‘Mr Oflfijepr! ] "The corporal desired to Biirrcniler.

At my orders he |>assed the arms of the detachment up through the grating, simply remarking: ‘“Make-haste, 1 am dying, ami my men are nearly drowned.' "We opened the trap-door, and the corporal’s head appeared. pale and ghastly. Two of his men were supporting him. Malefs fallen gun had actually shot him, and straight through the body. “Whim we had warmed our prisoners so that they could walk, we started back for Bethel, carrying the wounded Bun on a stretcher. The wounded Prussian we left liehind us, as our surgeon reported him too dangerously hurt to be moved at present. “This happened in the latter part of January: and it was that very day by chance that the Prussian troops in our neighbourhood were ordered to Paris. This was fortunate for Berthine and her family, and was probably the only thing that saved them from the vengeance of the invaders: for when the Prussians learned what had become of their scouting expedition they were as wild with rage as we, in Bethel, were with exultation. “I’he little town went fairly mad with a frenzy of pride and enthusiasm; and the good people of Bethel weri- quite as silly and extravagant as—well, as any community that has lost its head over a woman. They got up a popular subscription, ami gave Berthine Piehon a sum of money: 1 have forgotten how much, but it was a large sum for the time and place. The family was presented with the thanks of the town in a silver casket, and Berthine received from the municipality a cask of rare old wine, to which, 1 suppose, she preferred her own cider. The Pompiers—Fire Department, that is—sent her a mantelpiece clock with an alabaster pump on it. and she had a medal or testimonial from every religious society in the city. And when the war ended in February, and I was ordered away from Bethel, the Berthine fever had readied such a height that they were talking about establishing an annual festival in her honour. “It was not a time for festivals, however, and the absurd scheme was abandoned; but w hen I came back to Bethel, early in April, the excitement had broken out in a new form, and I found a most curious dispujs* referred to me for derision. T .could hardly believe my ears when I heard that the Maire of the town and my old friend Malet, the wounded baker, the Bun, were quarreling as to which should marry; Berthine Piehon, a girl who could not read or write. I ventured to suggest that she was hardly' a match for either of the well-to-do and 'highly respectable townspeople. but they were quite indignant over it. “ ’She is of the aristocracy of patriotism.’ said Malet. ‘“She is another Joan of Are.’ said the Maire. “As ex-commandant, I was forced to settle between them. I decided in favour of both, suggesting that they should make their oilers in order of seniority, and leave it to Berthine to express her personal preference, if she had any. My decision was regarded as novel and original, but perfectly satisfactory. “But I did not know what 1 had let myself in for, until the .Maire insisted that 1 should drive with him in state to demand of Nicolas Pielion the hand of his daughter. And. my friend. I had to go; and I must tell you how we went. “I have lived so long in America now that 1 can understand how impossibly ridiculous it must seem to you; but at the time I was only mildly amused when 1 found myself rolling through the forest in a big open carriage, conducted by a liveried coachman and footman. I was in full uniform, and I sat by the side of the Maire. who was in evening dress --yes, in swallow-tail coat and white kid gloves, at 11 o'clock in the morning. That’s the way they do it in France when they go to make a formal oiler of marriage “not .addressed to the young lady herself, yon know, but to the young lady ’s, papa. Ou the front seat were two gorgeously caparisoned beadles. borrowed from . the Cathedral to Jernl state and dignify to the occasion. ■‘When we cairn’ to the historic cottage. okir Pielion was chopping wood before the' ijbor. He Imtked up at us sullenly, and without saying a word, went on with his task. The footman descended, and nnniiiin -e>j tji<> Ylaij'e of the Citv of Bethel. Then the old man

looked up, with insolent rage glaring out of his little eyes. “‘To the devil with your city of Bethel! It has cost me my daughter: and now 1 must chop wood in i»i\ old "‘Cost you your daughter?’ stammered the Maire, bewildered. “’Yes/ said the old man; ‘you’ve set her crazy among you with your nonsense; and now she and her clock anil Ihr silver box ami the money you gave her—all thfc money—all the money, do you hear?—they have all gone with that cursed Prussian who was to have died and didn’t.’ “It was true. The modern Joan of Arc bad fallen in love with the captive who had been left with her Io be nursed; and as she could never have dared marry him openly and fare the wrath of her fellow citizens, she had slipped away with him by night, not forgetting to take with her the rewards of her pat riot ism. “We afterwards heart! that the corporal rejoined the Prussian army, and got his discharge and a present of money for having turned the laugh on us; an.l that the married pair emigrated to Canada, and have done well lor themselvcs. ’