Around the body,
soldiers
were gesticulating, crying aloud
in fury.
in fury.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v26 to v30 - Tur to Zor and Index
Two soldiers had led Dominique away into the next
room, where they were to keep him in sight. The young girl
had dropped down upon a chair, her legs giving way under her;
she could not cry, she was choking. Meanwhile the officer kept
looking at her closely. At last he spoke to her.
“That young man is your brother? he asked.
She shook her head. He stood there stiff, without a smile.
Then after a silence:
«He has lived a long while in these parts ? ”
She nodded yes, still dumb.
« Then he must know the woods round here very well ? »
This time she spoke.
“Yes, sir,” she said, looking at him in some surprise.
He said no more, and turned on his heel, asking to have the
mayor of the village brought to him. But Françoise had risen, a
faint flush on her face, thinking to have caught the drift of his
questions, and seeing fresh hope in them. It was she who ran to
find her father.
Old Merlier, as soon as the shots had ceased, had run quickly
down the wooden steps to look at his wheel. He adored his
daughter, he had a stout friendship for Dominique, his intended
son-in-law; but his wheel also held a large place in his heart.
As the two young ones, as he called them, had come safe and
sound out of the scrimmage, he thought of his other love, and
this one had suffered grievously. And bending over the huge
wooden carcass, he investigated its wounds, the picture of distress.
Five paddles were in splinters, the central framework was rid-
dled. He stuck his fingers into the bullet-holes to measure their
depth; he thought over how he could repair all this damage.
Françoise found him already stopping up cracks with broken bits
of wood and moss.
Father,” she said, "you are wanted. ”
And at last she wept, telling him what she had just heard.
Old Merlier shook his head. You didn't shoot people that way.
He must see. And he went back into the mill with his silent,
pacific air.
When the officer asked him for victuals for his men,
he answered that the people in Rocreuse were not accustomed
to being bullied, and that nothing would be got from them by
## p. 16311 (#665) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16311
»
violence. He took everything upon himself, but on the condition
of being allowed to act alone. The officer showed signs, at first,
of getting angry at this cool manner; then he gave in to the old
man's curt and business-like way of talking. He even called him
back to ask him :-
“What do you call those woods there, opposite ? ”
« The Sauval woods. "
"And what is their extent ? »
The miller looked at him fixedly.
“I don't know,” he answered.
And he walked away. An hour later, the contribution of
victuals and money required by the officer were in the court-
yard of the mill. Night was approaching; Françoise followed
the soldiers' movements anxiously. She did not go far from the
room in which Dominique was shut up. At about seven she
had a poignant emotion: she saw the officer go into the prison-
er's room, and for a quarter of an hour she heard their voices
raised. One instant the officer reappeared on the threshold, to
give an order in German, which she did not understand: but
when twelve men came and fell into line in the court-yard with
their muskets, she fell a-trembling; she felt ready to die. So it
was all over: the execution was to take place. The twelve men
waited there ten minutes. Dominique's voice was still raised
in a violent refusal. At last the officer came out, slamming the
door and saying: -
“Very well; think it over. I give you till to-morrow morn-
ing. ”
And with a motion of his arm, he ordered the twelve men to
break ranks. Françoise stayed on in a sort of stupor. Old Mer-
lier, who had not stopped smoking his pipe, while looking at the
squad with an air of simple curiosity, came up and took her by
the arm with fatherly gentleness. He led her to her room.
"Keep quiet,” he said; «try to sleep. To-morrow it will be
“
daylight, and we will see. ”
When he withdrew he locked her in, for prudence's sake. It
was a principle of his that women were no good, and that they
made a mess of it whenever they undertook anything serious.
But Françoise did not go to bed: she stayed a long time sitting
on her bed, listening to the noises in the house. The German
soldiers, encamped in the court-yard, were singing and laughing:
they must have been eating and drinking up to eleven, for the
»
## p. 16312 (#666) ##########################################
16312
ÉMILE ZOLA
noise did not stop for an instant. In the mill itself, heavy steps
sounded every now and then: no doubt they were relieving sen-
tries. But what interested her above all were noises that she
could not make out, in the room under hers. Several times
she lay down on the ground; she put her ear to the floor. This
room happened to be the one in which Dominique was locked
up. He must have been walking from the wall to the window,
for she long heard the cadence of his steps: then there was a
dead silence; he had doubtless sat down. Besides, the noises
stopped; everything was hushed in sleep. When the house
seemed to her to slumber, she opened the window as softly as
possible, and rested her elbows on the sill.
Outside the night was calm and warm.
The slender crescent
moon, setting behind the Sauval woods, lighted up the country
with the glimmer of a night-taper. The elongated shadows of
the great trees barred the meadows with black; while the grass,
in the unshaded spots, put on the softness of greenish velvet.
But Françoise did not stop to note the mysterious charm of the
night. She examined the country, looking for the sentinels that
the Germans must have stationed on one side. She plainly saw
their shadows, ranged like rungs of a ladder along the Morelle.
Only a single one stood opposite the mill, on the other side of
the river, near a willow whose branches dipped into the water.
Françoise saw him distinctly: he was a big fellow, standing
motionless, his face turned toward the sky with the dreamy look
of a shepherd.
Then when she had carefully inspected the ground, she went
back and sat down upon her bed. She stayed there an hour,
deeply absorbed. Then she listened again: in the house not a
breath stirred. She went back to the window, and looked out;
but no doubt she saw danger in one of the horns of the moon,
which still appeared behind the trees, for she went back again
to wait. At last the time seemed to have come. The night was
quite dark: she no longer saw the sentinel opposite; the country
lay spread out like a pool of ink. She listened intently for a
moment, and made up her mind. An iron ladder ran near the
window,- some bars let into the wall, leading from the wheel up
to the loft, down which the millers used to climb to get at cer-
tain cog-wheels; then when the machinery had been altered, the
ladder had long since disappeared beneath the rank growth of
ivy that covered that side of the mill.
## p. 16313 (#667) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16313
Françoise bravely climbed over the balustrade of her window,
grasped one of the iron bars, and found herself in empty space.
She began to climb down. Her skirts were much in her way.
Suddenly a stone broke loose from the masonry, and fell into
the Morelle with a resounding splash. She stopped, chilled with
a shudder. But she saw that the waterfall, with its continuous
roar, drowned out from afar any noise she might make; and she
climbed down more boldly, feeling for the ivy with her foot,
making sure of the rungs of the ladder. When she had got on
a level with the room that was used as Dominique's prison, she
stopped. An unforeseen difficulty nearly made her lose all her
courage: the window of the room below was not cut regularly,
under the window of her chamber; it was some way from the
ladder, and when she stretched out her hand she felt only the
wall. Would she have to climb up again, without carrying her
plan through to the end ? Her arms were getting tired; the mur-
mur of the Morelle beneath her began to make her dizzy. Then
she tore off little bits of mortar from the wall, barking her fin-
gers. And her strength was giving out: she felt herself falling
backwards, when Dominique, at last, softly opened his window.
“It's I,” she whispered. « Take me quick, - I'm falling. ”
It was the first time she had tutoyéed him. He caught her,
leaning out, and lifted her into the room. There she had a fit
of tears, stilling her sobs so as not to be heard. Then by a
supreme effort she calmed herself.
“ You are guarded ? ” she asked in a low voice.
Dominique, still dumbfounded at seeing her thus, made a
simple sign, pointing to his door. They heard a snoring on the
other side: the sentinel must have given way to drowsiness, and
laid him down on the ground across the doorway, thinking that
in this way the prisoner could not get out.
“You must run away,” she went on rapidly. “I have come
to implore you to run away, and to say good-by. ”
But he did not seem to hear her. He kept repeating: -
“How - it's you, it's you! - how you frightened me! You
might have killed yourself. ”
He took her hands — he kissed them.
«How I love you, Françoise ! You are as brave as you are
good. I only had one fear,— that of dying without seeing you
once more. But you are here, and now they can shoot me.
When I have had a quarter of an hour with you, I shall be
ready. ”
## p. 16314 (#668) ##########################################
16314
ÉMILE ZOLA
»
(
>
(
(
Little by little he had drawn her closer to him, and she rested
her head upon his shoulder. The danger drew them nearer to-
gether. They forgot all in this embrace.
"Ah, Françoise,” Dominique went on in a caressing voice,
to-day is St. Louis's day; our wedding day that we have waited
for so long. Nothing has been able to separate us, since we
are here, all alone, faithful to our tryst. It's our wedding morn
now, isn't it? »
“Yes, yes,” she repeated, “our wedding morning. ”
They exchanged a kiss trembling. But of a sudden she broke
loose: the terrible reality rose up before her.
“You must run away,- you must run away,” she stammered
out. “Let us not lose a minute. ”
And as he stretched out his arms once more to take her in
the darkness, she again tutoyéed him:-
“Oh! I beg of you, listen to me. If you die, I shall die. In
an hour it will be daylight. I wish you to go at once. ”
Then rapidly she explained her plan. The iron ladder ran
down to the wheel; there he could take the paddles and get into
the boat, which was in the recess.
After that it would be easy
for him to reach the other bank of the river and escape.
« But there must be sentinels there? ” he said.
"Only one, opposite, at the foot of the first willow. ”
“And if he sees me, if he tries calling out ? ”
Françoise shuddered. She put a knife she had brought with
her into his hand. There was a silence.
"And your father, and you ? ” Dominique continued. “But no,
I can't run away.
When I am gone, maybe these soldiers will
slaughter you.
You don't know them. They proposed to show
me mercy if I would be their guide through the Sauval forest.
When they find me gone, they will stick at nothing. ”
The young girl did not stop to discuss. She simply answered
all the reasons he gave with —
“For the love of me, fly. If you love me, Dominique, don't
stay here a minute longer. ”
Then she promised to climb back to her room. They would
not know that she had helped him. She at last took him in her
arms, kissed him to convince him, in an extraordinary outburst of
passion. He was beaten. He asked not a question further.
Swear to me that your father knows of what you are doing,
and that he advises me to run away. ”
"It was my father sent me,” Françoise answered boldly.
(
»
»
»
(
»
## p. 16315 (#669) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16315
She lied. At this moment she felt nothing but a boundless
need of knowing him in safety, of escaping from this abominable
thought that the sun would give the signal for his death. When
he was gone, all mishaps might rush down upon her; it would
seem sweet to her as long as he was alive. The selfishness of
her love wished him alive before all else.
“Very well,” said Dominique: "I will do as you prefer. ”
Then they said nothing more. Dominique went to open the
window again; but suddenly a noise chilled their blood.
door was shaken, and they thought it was being opened. Evi-
dently a patrol had heard their voices; and both of them, stand-
ing pressed against each other, waited in an unspeakable anguish.
Each gave a stifled sigh; they saw how it was,- it must have
been the soldier lying across the threshold turning over. And
really, silence was restored; the snoring began again.
Dominique would have it that Françoise must first climb back
to her room. He took her in his arms; he bade her a mute fare-
well. Then he helped her to seize the ladder, and grappled
hold of it in his turn. But he refused to go down a single
rung before he knew she was in her room. When Françoise had
climbed in, she whispered, in a voice as light as breath:-
"Au revoir; I love you! ”
She stopped with her elbows resting on the window-sill, and
tried to follow Dominique with her eyes. The night was still
She looked for the sentinel, and did not see him;
only the willow made a pale spot in the midst of the darkness.
For an instant she heard the rustling of Dominique's body along
the ivy. Then the wheel creaked, and there was a gentle plash-
ing that told that the young man had found the boat. A minute
later, in fact, she made out the dark outline of a boat on the
gray sheet of the Morelle.
Then anguish stopped her breath.
At every moment she thought to hear the sentinel's cry of
alarm. The faintest sounds, scattered through the darkness,
seemed to be the hurried tread of soldiers, the clatter of arms,
the click of the hammers of their rifles. Yet seconds elapsed; the
country slept in a sovereign peace. Dominique must have been
landing on the other bank. Françoise saw nothing more. The
stillness was majestic. And she heard a noise of scuffling feet,
a hoarse cry, the dull thud of a falling body. Then the silence
grew deeper; and as if she had felt death passing by, she waited
on, all cold, face to face with the pitch-dark night.
>
very dark.
## p. 16316 (#670) ##########################################
16316
ÉMILE ZOLA
IV
»
AT DAYBREAK, shouting voices shook the mill. Old Merlier
had come down to open Françoise's door. She came down
into the court-yard, pale and very calm.
But there she gave a
shudder before the dead body of a Prussian soldier, which was
stretched out near the well, on a cloak spread on the ground.
Around the body, soldiers were gesticulating, crying aloud
in fury. Many of them shook their fists at the village. Mean-
while the officer had had old Merlier called, as mayor of the
township.
“ «See here,” said he, in a voice choking with rage, here's one
«
of our men who has been murdered by the river-side. We must
make a tremendous example, and I trust you will help us to find
out the murderer. »
"Anything you please," answered the miller in his phlegmatic
way. “Only it will not be easy. "
The officer had stooped down to throw aside a flap of the
cloak that hid the dead man's face. Then a horrible wound
appeared.
The sentinel had been struck in the throat, and the
weapon was left in the wound. It was a kitchen knife with a
black handle.
Look at this knife," said the officer to old Merlier: per-
haps it may help us in our search. ”
The old man gave a start. But he recovered himself immedi-
ately, and answered, without moving a muscle of his face: -
« Everybody in these parts has knives like that. Maybe your
man was tired of fighting, and did the job himself. Such things
have been known to happen. "
“Shut up! » the officer cried furiously. "I don't know what
keeps me from setting fire to the four corners of the village. ”
His anger luckily prevented his noticing the profound change
that had come over Françoise's face. She had to sit down on
the stone bench near the wall. In spite of herself her eyes
never left that dead body, stretched on the ground almost at her
feet. He was a big, handsome fellow, who looked like Domi.
nique, with light hair and blue eyes. This resemblance made
her heart-sick. She thought of how the dead man had perhaps
left some sweetheart behind, who would weep for him over
there in Germany. And she recognized her knife in the dead
man's throat. She had killed him.
(
»
»
>
## p. 16317 (#671) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16317
an
« He
Meanwhile the officer talked of taking terrible measures
against Rocreuse, when some soldiers came up running. They
had only just noticed Dominique's escape. It occasioned
extreme agitation. The officer visited the premises, looked out
of the window, which had been left open, understood it all, and
came back exasperated.
Old Merlier seemed very much put out at Dominique's flight.
« The idiot! ” he muttered: "he spoils it all. ”
Françoise, who heard him, was seized with anguish. For the
rest her father did not suspect her complicity. He shook his
head, saying to her in an undertone: -
«Now we are in a fine scrape! ”
“It's that rascal! it's that rascal! » cried the officer.
must have reached the woods. But he must be found for us, or
the village shall pay for it. ”
And addressing the miller:-
“Come, you must know where he is hiding ? »
Old Merlier gave a noiseless chuckle, pointing to the wide
extent of wooded hillside.
“How do you expect to find a man in there ? ” said he.
“Oh, there must be holes in there that you know of. I will
give you ten men. You shall be their guide. ”
"All right. Only it will take us a week to beat all the woods
in the neighborhood. ”
The old man's coolness infuriated the officer. In fact, he
saw the ridiculousness of this battue. It was then that he caught
sight of Françoise, pale and trembling on the bench. The young
girl's anxious attitude struck him. He said nothing for an
instant, looking hard at the miller and Françoise by turns.
“Isn't this young man,” he at last brutally asked the old
man, “your daughter's lover ? »
Old Merlier turned livid; one would have thought him on the
point of throwing himself upon the officer and strangling him.
He drew himself up stiffly; he did not answer. Françoise put
her face between her hands.
“Yes, that's it,” the Prussian went on: "you or your daughter
have helped him to run away.
You are his accomplice. For the
last time, will you give him up to us ? »
The miller did not answer. He had turned away, looking off
into the distance, as if the officer had not been speaking to him.
(c
»
## p. 16318 (#672) ##########################################
16318
EMILE ZOLA
(
(
(
This put the last touch to the latter's anger.
“Very well,” he said: "you shall be shot instead. ”
And he once more ordered out the firing party. Old Merlier
still kept cool. He hardly gave a slight shrug of his shoulders:
this whole drama seemed to him in rather bad taste. No doubt
he did not believe that a man was to be shot with so little ado.
Then when the squad had come, he said gravely:-
« You're in earnest, then ? - All right. If you absolutely must
have some one, I shall do as well as another. ”
But Françoise sprang up, half crazed, stammering out:-
Mercy, monsieur! don't do any harm to my father.
Kill me
instead. It's I who helped Dominique to escape. I am the only
culprit. ”
“Be quiet, little girl,” cried old Merlier. .
«What are you
lying for? She spent the night locked up in her room, monsieur.
She lies, I assure you. "
“No, I am not lying," the young girl replied ardently. "I
climbed down out of the window; I urged Dominique to fly. It's
the truth, the only truth. ”
The old man turned very pale. He saw clearly in her eyes
that she was not lying; and the story appalled him. Ah! these
children with their hearts, how they spoiled everything! Then
he grew angry.
“She's crazy; don't believe her. She is telling you stupid
stories. Come, let's have done with it. ”
She tried to protest again. She knelt down, she clasped her
hands. The officer looked quietly on this heart-rending struggle.
“Good God! ” he said at last, “I take your father because I
haven't got the other one. Try and find the other one, and your
father shall go free. ”
For a moment she looked at him, her eyes staring wide at the
atrocity of this proposal.
"It's horrible,” she murmured. «Where do you expect me
to find Dominique at this time? He's gone; I don't know where
he is. ”
“Well, choose. Him or your father. ”
“O my God! how can I choose? But even if I knew where
Dominique was, I could not choose! It is my heart you are
breaking. I had rather die at once. Yes, it would be soonest
Kill me, I beg of you, kill me! ”
(
Over So.
## p. 16319 (#673) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16319
The officer at last grew impatient at this scene of despair
and tears. He cried out:
"I've had enough of this! I'm willing to be good-natured, -
I consent to give you two hours. If your sweetheart isn't here
in two hours, your father shall pay for him. ”
And he had old Merlier taken to the room which had been
used for Dominique's prison. The old man asked for some to-
bacco, and fell to smoking. No emotion was detected in his
impassive face. Only, when he was alone, two big tears ran
slowly down his cheeks. His poor, dear child, how she suffered!
Françoise had stayed in the middle of the court-yard. Some
Prussian soldiers passed by, laughing. Some of them called out
to her jokes which she did not understand. She stared at the
door through which her father had just disappeared. And with
a slow movement she raised her hand to her forehead, as if to
keep it from bursting. The officer turned on his heel repeating:
“You have two hours. Try to make good use of them. ”
She had two hours. This sentence kept buzzing in her head.
Then, mechanically, she went out of the court-yard, she walked
straight before her. Whither should she go? What should she
do? She did not even try to decide, because she felt convinced
of the uselessness of her efforts. Yet she would have liked to
find Dominique. They would have come to an understanding
together; they might perhaps have hit upon an expedient. And
amid the confusion of her thoughts, she went down to the
bank of the Morelle, which she crossed below the dam, at a place
where there were some large stones. Her feet led her under the
first willow, at the corner of the field. As she bent down she
saw a pool of blood that made her turn pale. That was clearly
the place. And she followed Dominique's tracks in the trod-
den grass: he must have run; a long line of strides was to be
seen cutting through the field cornerwise. Then, farther on, she
lost the tracks; but in a neighboring field she thought she found
them again. This brought her to the outskirts of the forest,
where all traces were wiped out.
Françoise plunged in under the trees, notwithstanding. It
was a relief to be alone. She sat down for a moment; then,
remembering her time was running out, she got up again. How
long was it since she had left the mill? Five minutes ? half an
hour? She lost all consciousness of time. Perhaps Dominique had
gone and hidden in a copse she knew of, where one afternoon
## p. 16320 (#674) ##########################################
16320
ÉMILE ZOLA
they had eaten filberts together. She went to the copse and
searched it. Only a blackbird flew out, whistling its soft, melan-
choly tune. Then she thought he had taken refuge in a hol.
low in the rocks, where he sometimes used to lie in ambush for
game; but the hollow in the rocks was empty. What was the
use of looking for him ? she would not find him: and little by
little her desire to find him grew furious; she walked on faster.
The notion that he might have climbed up a tree suddenly
struck her. From that moment she pushed on with up-turned
eyes; and that he might know she was near, she called out to
him every fifteen or twenty steps. The cuckoos answered her;
.
;
a breath of air passing through the branches made her think
he was there, and was coming down. Once she even thought
she saw him; she stopped, choking, having a good mind to run
away. What would she say to him? Had she come, then, to
lead him away and have him shot ? Oh no, she would not
mention these things. She would cry out to him to escape, not
to stay in the neighborhood. Then the thought of her father
waiting for her gave her a sharp pang. She fell upon the turf,
weeping, repeating aloud: -
“My God, my God! why am I here ! »
She must have been crazy to come. And as if seized with
fright, she ran, she tried to find a way out of the forest. Three
times she took the wrong path; and she thought she could not
find the mill again, when she came out into a field just oppo-
site Rocreuse. As soon as she caught sight of the village, she
stopped. Was she going to return alone ?
As she stood there, a voice called to her softly:-
« Françoise! Françoise ! »
And she saw Dominique raising his head above the edge of
a ditch. Just God, she had found him! So Heaven wished his
death ? She held back a cry, she let herself slide down into the
ditch.
“You were looking for me ? ” he asked.
Yes,” she answered, her head buzzing, not knowing what she
said.
“Ah! what's going on? ”
She looked down; she stammered out:
“Why, nothing; I was anxious—I wanted to see you. "
Then, reassured, he told her that he had not wished to go
far. He feared for them. Those rascals of Prussians were just
(
»
## p. 16321 (#675) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16321
»
the sort to wreak vengeance upon women and old men. Then
all was going well; and he added, laughing:-
"Our wedding will be for this day week, that's all. ”
Then, as she was still overcome, he grew serious again.
« But what's the matter with you? You are keeping some-
thing from me.
room, where they were to keep him in sight. The young girl
had dropped down upon a chair, her legs giving way under her;
she could not cry, she was choking. Meanwhile the officer kept
looking at her closely. At last he spoke to her.
“That young man is your brother? he asked.
She shook her head. He stood there stiff, without a smile.
Then after a silence:
«He has lived a long while in these parts ? ”
She nodded yes, still dumb.
« Then he must know the woods round here very well ? »
This time she spoke.
“Yes, sir,” she said, looking at him in some surprise.
He said no more, and turned on his heel, asking to have the
mayor of the village brought to him. But Françoise had risen, a
faint flush on her face, thinking to have caught the drift of his
questions, and seeing fresh hope in them. It was she who ran to
find her father.
Old Merlier, as soon as the shots had ceased, had run quickly
down the wooden steps to look at his wheel. He adored his
daughter, he had a stout friendship for Dominique, his intended
son-in-law; but his wheel also held a large place in his heart.
As the two young ones, as he called them, had come safe and
sound out of the scrimmage, he thought of his other love, and
this one had suffered grievously. And bending over the huge
wooden carcass, he investigated its wounds, the picture of distress.
Five paddles were in splinters, the central framework was rid-
dled. He stuck his fingers into the bullet-holes to measure their
depth; he thought over how he could repair all this damage.
Françoise found him already stopping up cracks with broken bits
of wood and moss.
Father,” she said, "you are wanted. ”
And at last she wept, telling him what she had just heard.
Old Merlier shook his head. You didn't shoot people that way.
He must see. And he went back into the mill with his silent,
pacific air.
When the officer asked him for victuals for his men,
he answered that the people in Rocreuse were not accustomed
to being bullied, and that nothing would be got from them by
## p. 16311 (#665) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16311
»
violence. He took everything upon himself, but on the condition
of being allowed to act alone. The officer showed signs, at first,
of getting angry at this cool manner; then he gave in to the old
man's curt and business-like way of talking. He even called him
back to ask him :-
“What do you call those woods there, opposite ? ”
« The Sauval woods. "
"And what is their extent ? »
The miller looked at him fixedly.
“I don't know,” he answered.
And he walked away. An hour later, the contribution of
victuals and money required by the officer were in the court-
yard of the mill. Night was approaching; Françoise followed
the soldiers' movements anxiously. She did not go far from the
room in which Dominique was shut up. At about seven she
had a poignant emotion: she saw the officer go into the prison-
er's room, and for a quarter of an hour she heard their voices
raised. One instant the officer reappeared on the threshold, to
give an order in German, which she did not understand: but
when twelve men came and fell into line in the court-yard with
their muskets, she fell a-trembling; she felt ready to die. So it
was all over: the execution was to take place. The twelve men
waited there ten minutes. Dominique's voice was still raised
in a violent refusal. At last the officer came out, slamming the
door and saying: -
“Very well; think it over. I give you till to-morrow morn-
ing. ”
And with a motion of his arm, he ordered the twelve men to
break ranks. Françoise stayed on in a sort of stupor. Old Mer-
lier, who had not stopped smoking his pipe, while looking at the
squad with an air of simple curiosity, came up and took her by
the arm with fatherly gentleness. He led her to her room.
"Keep quiet,” he said; «try to sleep. To-morrow it will be
“
daylight, and we will see. ”
When he withdrew he locked her in, for prudence's sake. It
was a principle of his that women were no good, and that they
made a mess of it whenever they undertook anything serious.
But Françoise did not go to bed: she stayed a long time sitting
on her bed, listening to the noises in the house. The German
soldiers, encamped in the court-yard, were singing and laughing:
they must have been eating and drinking up to eleven, for the
»
## p. 16312 (#666) ##########################################
16312
ÉMILE ZOLA
noise did not stop for an instant. In the mill itself, heavy steps
sounded every now and then: no doubt they were relieving sen-
tries. But what interested her above all were noises that she
could not make out, in the room under hers. Several times
she lay down on the ground; she put her ear to the floor. This
room happened to be the one in which Dominique was locked
up. He must have been walking from the wall to the window,
for she long heard the cadence of his steps: then there was a
dead silence; he had doubtless sat down. Besides, the noises
stopped; everything was hushed in sleep. When the house
seemed to her to slumber, she opened the window as softly as
possible, and rested her elbows on the sill.
Outside the night was calm and warm.
The slender crescent
moon, setting behind the Sauval woods, lighted up the country
with the glimmer of a night-taper. The elongated shadows of
the great trees barred the meadows with black; while the grass,
in the unshaded spots, put on the softness of greenish velvet.
But Françoise did not stop to note the mysterious charm of the
night. She examined the country, looking for the sentinels that
the Germans must have stationed on one side. She plainly saw
their shadows, ranged like rungs of a ladder along the Morelle.
Only a single one stood opposite the mill, on the other side of
the river, near a willow whose branches dipped into the water.
Françoise saw him distinctly: he was a big fellow, standing
motionless, his face turned toward the sky with the dreamy look
of a shepherd.
Then when she had carefully inspected the ground, she went
back and sat down upon her bed. She stayed there an hour,
deeply absorbed. Then she listened again: in the house not a
breath stirred. She went back to the window, and looked out;
but no doubt she saw danger in one of the horns of the moon,
which still appeared behind the trees, for she went back again
to wait. At last the time seemed to have come. The night was
quite dark: she no longer saw the sentinel opposite; the country
lay spread out like a pool of ink. She listened intently for a
moment, and made up her mind. An iron ladder ran near the
window,- some bars let into the wall, leading from the wheel up
to the loft, down which the millers used to climb to get at cer-
tain cog-wheels; then when the machinery had been altered, the
ladder had long since disappeared beneath the rank growth of
ivy that covered that side of the mill.
## p. 16313 (#667) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16313
Françoise bravely climbed over the balustrade of her window,
grasped one of the iron bars, and found herself in empty space.
She began to climb down. Her skirts were much in her way.
Suddenly a stone broke loose from the masonry, and fell into
the Morelle with a resounding splash. She stopped, chilled with
a shudder. But she saw that the waterfall, with its continuous
roar, drowned out from afar any noise she might make; and she
climbed down more boldly, feeling for the ivy with her foot,
making sure of the rungs of the ladder. When she had got on
a level with the room that was used as Dominique's prison, she
stopped. An unforeseen difficulty nearly made her lose all her
courage: the window of the room below was not cut regularly,
under the window of her chamber; it was some way from the
ladder, and when she stretched out her hand she felt only the
wall. Would she have to climb up again, without carrying her
plan through to the end ? Her arms were getting tired; the mur-
mur of the Morelle beneath her began to make her dizzy. Then
she tore off little bits of mortar from the wall, barking her fin-
gers. And her strength was giving out: she felt herself falling
backwards, when Dominique, at last, softly opened his window.
“It's I,” she whispered. « Take me quick, - I'm falling. ”
It was the first time she had tutoyéed him. He caught her,
leaning out, and lifted her into the room. There she had a fit
of tears, stilling her sobs so as not to be heard. Then by a
supreme effort she calmed herself.
“ You are guarded ? ” she asked in a low voice.
Dominique, still dumbfounded at seeing her thus, made a
simple sign, pointing to his door. They heard a snoring on the
other side: the sentinel must have given way to drowsiness, and
laid him down on the ground across the doorway, thinking that
in this way the prisoner could not get out.
“You must run away,” she went on rapidly. “I have come
to implore you to run away, and to say good-by. ”
But he did not seem to hear her. He kept repeating: -
“How - it's you, it's you! - how you frightened me! You
might have killed yourself. ”
He took her hands — he kissed them.
«How I love you, Françoise ! You are as brave as you are
good. I only had one fear,— that of dying without seeing you
once more. But you are here, and now they can shoot me.
When I have had a quarter of an hour with you, I shall be
ready. ”
## p. 16314 (#668) ##########################################
16314
ÉMILE ZOLA
»
(
>
(
(
Little by little he had drawn her closer to him, and she rested
her head upon his shoulder. The danger drew them nearer to-
gether. They forgot all in this embrace.
"Ah, Françoise,” Dominique went on in a caressing voice,
to-day is St. Louis's day; our wedding day that we have waited
for so long. Nothing has been able to separate us, since we
are here, all alone, faithful to our tryst. It's our wedding morn
now, isn't it? »
“Yes, yes,” she repeated, “our wedding morning. ”
They exchanged a kiss trembling. But of a sudden she broke
loose: the terrible reality rose up before her.
“You must run away,- you must run away,” she stammered
out. “Let us not lose a minute. ”
And as he stretched out his arms once more to take her in
the darkness, she again tutoyéed him:-
“Oh! I beg of you, listen to me. If you die, I shall die. In
an hour it will be daylight. I wish you to go at once. ”
Then rapidly she explained her plan. The iron ladder ran
down to the wheel; there he could take the paddles and get into
the boat, which was in the recess.
After that it would be easy
for him to reach the other bank of the river and escape.
« But there must be sentinels there? ” he said.
"Only one, opposite, at the foot of the first willow. ”
“And if he sees me, if he tries calling out ? ”
Françoise shuddered. She put a knife she had brought with
her into his hand. There was a silence.
"And your father, and you ? ” Dominique continued. “But no,
I can't run away.
When I am gone, maybe these soldiers will
slaughter you.
You don't know them. They proposed to show
me mercy if I would be their guide through the Sauval forest.
When they find me gone, they will stick at nothing. ”
The young girl did not stop to discuss. She simply answered
all the reasons he gave with —
“For the love of me, fly. If you love me, Dominique, don't
stay here a minute longer. ”
Then she promised to climb back to her room. They would
not know that she had helped him. She at last took him in her
arms, kissed him to convince him, in an extraordinary outburst of
passion. He was beaten. He asked not a question further.
Swear to me that your father knows of what you are doing,
and that he advises me to run away. ”
"It was my father sent me,” Françoise answered boldly.
(
»
»
»
(
»
## p. 16315 (#669) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16315
She lied. At this moment she felt nothing but a boundless
need of knowing him in safety, of escaping from this abominable
thought that the sun would give the signal for his death. When
he was gone, all mishaps might rush down upon her; it would
seem sweet to her as long as he was alive. The selfishness of
her love wished him alive before all else.
“Very well,” said Dominique: "I will do as you prefer. ”
Then they said nothing more. Dominique went to open the
window again; but suddenly a noise chilled their blood.
door was shaken, and they thought it was being opened. Evi-
dently a patrol had heard their voices; and both of them, stand-
ing pressed against each other, waited in an unspeakable anguish.
Each gave a stifled sigh; they saw how it was,- it must have
been the soldier lying across the threshold turning over. And
really, silence was restored; the snoring began again.
Dominique would have it that Françoise must first climb back
to her room. He took her in his arms; he bade her a mute fare-
well. Then he helped her to seize the ladder, and grappled
hold of it in his turn. But he refused to go down a single
rung before he knew she was in her room. When Françoise had
climbed in, she whispered, in a voice as light as breath:-
"Au revoir; I love you! ”
She stopped with her elbows resting on the window-sill, and
tried to follow Dominique with her eyes. The night was still
She looked for the sentinel, and did not see him;
only the willow made a pale spot in the midst of the darkness.
For an instant she heard the rustling of Dominique's body along
the ivy. Then the wheel creaked, and there was a gentle plash-
ing that told that the young man had found the boat. A minute
later, in fact, she made out the dark outline of a boat on the
gray sheet of the Morelle.
Then anguish stopped her breath.
At every moment she thought to hear the sentinel's cry of
alarm. The faintest sounds, scattered through the darkness,
seemed to be the hurried tread of soldiers, the clatter of arms,
the click of the hammers of their rifles. Yet seconds elapsed; the
country slept in a sovereign peace. Dominique must have been
landing on the other bank. Françoise saw nothing more. The
stillness was majestic. And she heard a noise of scuffling feet,
a hoarse cry, the dull thud of a falling body. Then the silence
grew deeper; and as if she had felt death passing by, she waited
on, all cold, face to face with the pitch-dark night.
>
very dark.
## p. 16316 (#670) ##########################################
16316
ÉMILE ZOLA
IV
»
AT DAYBREAK, shouting voices shook the mill. Old Merlier
had come down to open Françoise's door. She came down
into the court-yard, pale and very calm.
But there she gave a
shudder before the dead body of a Prussian soldier, which was
stretched out near the well, on a cloak spread on the ground.
Around the body, soldiers were gesticulating, crying aloud
in fury. Many of them shook their fists at the village. Mean-
while the officer had had old Merlier called, as mayor of the
township.
“ «See here,” said he, in a voice choking with rage, here's one
«
of our men who has been murdered by the river-side. We must
make a tremendous example, and I trust you will help us to find
out the murderer. »
"Anything you please," answered the miller in his phlegmatic
way. “Only it will not be easy. "
The officer had stooped down to throw aside a flap of the
cloak that hid the dead man's face. Then a horrible wound
appeared.
The sentinel had been struck in the throat, and the
weapon was left in the wound. It was a kitchen knife with a
black handle.
Look at this knife," said the officer to old Merlier: per-
haps it may help us in our search. ”
The old man gave a start. But he recovered himself immedi-
ately, and answered, without moving a muscle of his face: -
« Everybody in these parts has knives like that. Maybe your
man was tired of fighting, and did the job himself. Such things
have been known to happen. "
“Shut up! » the officer cried furiously. "I don't know what
keeps me from setting fire to the four corners of the village. ”
His anger luckily prevented his noticing the profound change
that had come over Françoise's face. She had to sit down on
the stone bench near the wall. In spite of herself her eyes
never left that dead body, stretched on the ground almost at her
feet. He was a big, handsome fellow, who looked like Domi.
nique, with light hair and blue eyes. This resemblance made
her heart-sick. She thought of how the dead man had perhaps
left some sweetheart behind, who would weep for him over
there in Germany. And she recognized her knife in the dead
man's throat. She had killed him.
(
»
»
>
## p. 16317 (#671) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16317
an
« He
Meanwhile the officer talked of taking terrible measures
against Rocreuse, when some soldiers came up running. They
had only just noticed Dominique's escape. It occasioned
extreme agitation. The officer visited the premises, looked out
of the window, which had been left open, understood it all, and
came back exasperated.
Old Merlier seemed very much put out at Dominique's flight.
« The idiot! ” he muttered: "he spoils it all. ”
Françoise, who heard him, was seized with anguish. For the
rest her father did not suspect her complicity. He shook his
head, saying to her in an undertone: -
«Now we are in a fine scrape! ”
“It's that rascal! it's that rascal! » cried the officer.
must have reached the woods. But he must be found for us, or
the village shall pay for it. ”
And addressing the miller:-
“Come, you must know where he is hiding ? »
Old Merlier gave a noiseless chuckle, pointing to the wide
extent of wooded hillside.
“How do you expect to find a man in there ? ” said he.
“Oh, there must be holes in there that you know of. I will
give you ten men. You shall be their guide. ”
"All right. Only it will take us a week to beat all the woods
in the neighborhood. ”
The old man's coolness infuriated the officer. In fact, he
saw the ridiculousness of this battue. It was then that he caught
sight of Françoise, pale and trembling on the bench. The young
girl's anxious attitude struck him. He said nothing for an
instant, looking hard at the miller and Françoise by turns.
“Isn't this young man,” he at last brutally asked the old
man, “your daughter's lover ? »
Old Merlier turned livid; one would have thought him on the
point of throwing himself upon the officer and strangling him.
He drew himself up stiffly; he did not answer. Françoise put
her face between her hands.
“Yes, that's it,” the Prussian went on: "you or your daughter
have helped him to run away.
You are his accomplice. For the
last time, will you give him up to us ? »
The miller did not answer. He had turned away, looking off
into the distance, as if the officer had not been speaking to him.
(c
»
## p. 16318 (#672) ##########################################
16318
EMILE ZOLA
(
(
(
This put the last touch to the latter's anger.
“Very well,” he said: "you shall be shot instead. ”
And he once more ordered out the firing party. Old Merlier
still kept cool. He hardly gave a slight shrug of his shoulders:
this whole drama seemed to him in rather bad taste. No doubt
he did not believe that a man was to be shot with so little ado.
Then when the squad had come, he said gravely:-
« You're in earnest, then ? - All right. If you absolutely must
have some one, I shall do as well as another. ”
But Françoise sprang up, half crazed, stammering out:-
Mercy, monsieur! don't do any harm to my father.
Kill me
instead. It's I who helped Dominique to escape. I am the only
culprit. ”
“Be quiet, little girl,” cried old Merlier. .
«What are you
lying for? She spent the night locked up in her room, monsieur.
She lies, I assure you. "
“No, I am not lying," the young girl replied ardently. "I
climbed down out of the window; I urged Dominique to fly. It's
the truth, the only truth. ”
The old man turned very pale. He saw clearly in her eyes
that she was not lying; and the story appalled him. Ah! these
children with their hearts, how they spoiled everything! Then
he grew angry.
“She's crazy; don't believe her. She is telling you stupid
stories. Come, let's have done with it. ”
She tried to protest again. She knelt down, she clasped her
hands. The officer looked quietly on this heart-rending struggle.
“Good God! ” he said at last, “I take your father because I
haven't got the other one. Try and find the other one, and your
father shall go free. ”
For a moment she looked at him, her eyes staring wide at the
atrocity of this proposal.
"It's horrible,” she murmured. «Where do you expect me
to find Dominique at this time? He's gone; I don't know where
he is. ”
“Well, choose. Him or your father. ”
“O my God! how can I choose? But even if I knew where
Dominique was, I could not choose! It is my heart you are
breaking. I had rather die at once. Yes, it would be soonest
Kill me, I beg of you, kill me! ”
(
Over So.
## p. 16319 (#673) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16319
The officer at last grew impatient at this scene of despair
and tears. He cried out:
"I've had enough of this! I'm willing to be good-natured, -
I consent to give you two hours. If your sweetheart isn't here
in two hours, your father shall pay for him. ”
And he had old Merlier taken to the room which had been
used for Dominique's prison. The old man asked for some to-
bacco, and fell to smoking. No emotion was detected in his
impassive face. Only, when he was alone, two big tears ran
slowly down his cheeks. His poor, dear child, how she suffered!
Françoise had stayed in the middle of the court-yard. Some
Prussian soldiers passed by, laughing. Some of them called out
to her jokes which she did not understand. She stared at the
door through which her father had just disappeared. And with
a slow movement she raised her hand to her forehead, as if to
keep it from bursting. The officer turned on his heel repeating:
“You have two hours. Try to make good use of them. ”
She had two hours. This sentence kept buzzing in her head.
Then, mechanically, she went out of the court-yard, she walked
straight before her. Whither should she go? What should she
do? She did not even try to decide, because she felt convinced
of the uselessness of her efforts. Yet she would have liked to
find Dominique. They would have come to an understanding
together; they might perhaps have hit upon an expedient. And
amid the confusion of her thoughts, she went down to the
bank of the Morelle, which she crossed below the dam, at a place
where there were some large stones. Her feet led her under the
first willow, at the corner of the field. As she bent down she
saw a pool of blood that made her turn pale. That was clearly
the place. And she followed Dominique's tracks in the trod-
den grass: he must have run; a long line of strides was to be
seen cutting through the field cornerwise. Then, farther on, she
lost the tracks; but in a neighboring field she thought she found
them again. This brought her to the outskirts of the forest,
where all traces were wiped out.
Françoise plunged in under the trees, notwithstanding. It
was a relief to be alone. She sat down for a moment; then,
remembering her time was running out, she got up again. How
long was it since she had left the mill? Five minutes ? half an
hour? She lost all consciousness of time. Perhaps Dominique had
gone and hidden in a copse she knew of, where one afternoon
## p. 16320 (#674) ##########################################
16320
ÉMILE ZOLA
they had eaten filberts together. She went to the copse and
searched it. Only a blackbird flew out, whistling its soft, melan-
choly tune. Then she thought he had taken refuge in a hol.
low in the rocks, where he sometimes used to lie in ambush for
game; but the hollow in the rocks was empty. What was the
use of looking for him ? she would not find him: and little by
little her desire to find him grew furious; she walked on faster.
The notion that he might have climbed up a tree suddenly
struck her. From that moment she pushed on with up-turned
eyes; and that he might know she was near, she called out to
him every fifteen or twenty steps. The cuckoos answered her;
.
;
a breath of air passing through the branches made her think
he was there, and was coming down. Once she even thought
she saw him; she stopped, choking, having a good mind to run
away. What would she say to him? Had she come, then, to
lead him away and have him shot ? Oh no, she would not
mention these things. She would cry out to him to escape, not
to stay in the neighborhood. Then the thought of her father
waiting for her gave her a sharp pang. She fell upon the turf,
weeping, repeating aloud: -
“My God, my God! why am I here ! »
She must have been crazy to come. And as if seized with
fright, she ran, she tried to find a way out of the forest. Three
times she took the wrong path; and she thought she could not
find the mill again, when she came out into a field just oppo-
site Rocreuse. As soon as she caught sight of the village, she
stopped. Was she going to return alone ?
As she stood there, a voice called to her softly:-
« Françoise! Françoise ! »
And she saw Dominique raising his head above the edge of
a ditch. Just God, she had found him! So Heaven wished his
death ? She held back a cry, she let herself slide down into the
ditch.
“You were looking for me ? ” he asked.
Yes,” she answered, her head buzzing, not knowing what she
said.
“Ah! what's going on? ”
She looked down; she stammered out:
“Why, nothing; I was anxious—I wanted to see you. "
Then, reassured, he told her that he had not wished to go
far. He feared for them. Those rascals of Prussians were just
(
»
## p. 16321 (#675) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16321
»
the sort to wreak vengeance upon women and old men. Then
all was going well; and he added, laughing:-
"Our wedding will be for this day week, that's all. ”
Then, as she was still overcome, he grew serious again.
« But what's the matter with you? You are keeping some-
thing from me.
