She
listened
intently for a
moment, and made up her mind.
moment, and made up her mind.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v27 - Wat to Zor
To be sure, there was a bridge, a little over a
mile off, but they doubtless did not know of its existence; and it
was hardly probable that they would try to ford the river. So
the officer merely had the road watched. The whole effort was
to be made on the side toward the fields,
The firing had once more ceased. The mill seemed dead
beneath the hot sun. Not a shutter was opened, not a sound
came from the inside. Little by little, meanwhile, the Prussians
showed themselves at the outskirts of the Gagny wood. They
stretched forth their heads, grew more daring. In the mill, sev-
eral soldiers had already leveled their rifles, but the captain cried
out:
No, no, wait. Let them come up. ”
They were very cautious about it, looking at the mill with
evident distrust. This old dwelling, silent and dismal, with its
curtains of ivy, made them uneasy. Still they kept advancing.
When there were about fifty of them in the meadow opposite,
the officer said a single word:-
« Fire ! »
A tearing sound was heard, followed by single shots. Fran-
çoise, shaken with a fit of trembling, put her hands up to her
ears, in spite of herself. Dominique, behind the soldiers, looked
on; and when the smoke had blown away a little, he saw three
Prussians stretched on their backs in the middle of the field.
The rest had thrown themselves down behind the willows and
poplars; and the siege began.
For over an hour the mill was riddled with bullets. They
whipped its old walls like hail. When they struck stone, you
beard them flatten out and fall back into the water. Into wood
they penetrated with a hollow sound. Now and then a cracking
told that the wheel had been hit. The soldiers inside husbanded
>
## p. 16307 (#661) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16307
>>>
their shots,- fired only when they could take aim. From time to
—
time the captain would look at his watch; and as a ball split a
shutter and then lodged in the ceiling:-
Four o'clock,” he muttered. « We shall never hold out. "
It was true: this terrible firing of musketry was shivering
the old mill. A shutter fell into the water, riddled like a piece
of lace, and had to be replaced by a mattress. Old Merlier
exposed himself every moment, to make sure of the injury done
to his poor wheel, whose cracking went to his heart. It was all
over with it this time: never would he be able to repair it.
Dominique had implored Françoise to go, but she would stay
with him; she had sat down behind a great oak clothes-press, the
sides of which gave out a deep sound. Then Dominique placed
himself in front of Françoise. He had not fired yet; he held his
gun in his hands, not being able to get up to the windows, whose
entire width was taken up by the soldiers. At every discharge
the floor shook.
"Look out! look out! ” the captain cried of a sudden.
'He had just seen a whole black mass come out from the
wood. Immediately a formidable platoon fire was opened. It
was as if a waterspout had passed over the mill. Another shut-
ter gave way; and by the gaping opening of the window the
bullets came in. Two soldiers rolled upon the floor. One did
not move; they pushed him up against the wall, because he was
The other squirmed on the ground, begging them
to make an end of him; but no one minded him: the balls kept
coming in; every one shielded himself, and tried to find a loop-
hole to fire back through. A third soldier was wounded; he said
not a word, he let himself slide down by the edge of a table,
with fixed and haggard eyes. Opposite the dead men, Fran-
çoise, seized with horror, had pushed her chair aside mechanically,
to sit down on the ground next the wall; she felt smaller there,
and in less danger. Meanwhile they had gone after all the mat-
tresses in the house, and had half stopped up the window. The
hall was getting filled with rubbish, with broken weapons, with
gutted furniture.
“Five o'clock," said the captain. « Keep it up.
They are
going to try to cross the water. »
At this instant Françoise gave a shriek. A rebounding ball
had just grazed her forehead. A few drops of blood appeared.
Dominique looked at her; then stepping up to the window, he
in the way.
>>
## p. 16308 (#662) ##########################################
16308
ÉMILE ZOLA
fired his first shot, and kept on firing. He loaded, fired, without
paying any attention to what was going on near him; only from
time to time he would give Françoise a look. For the rest, he
did not hurry himself, - took careful aim. The Prussians, creep-
ing along by the poplars, were attempting the passage of the
Morelle, as the captain had foreseen; but as soon as one of
them risked showing himself, he would fall, hit in the head by a
ball from Dominique. The captain who followed this game was
astonished. He complimented the young man, saying that he
would be glad to have a lot of marksmen like him. Dominique
did not hear him. A ball cut his shoulder, another bruised his
arm; and he kept on firing.
There were two more men killed. The mattresses, all slashed
to bits, no longer stopped up the windows. A last volley seemed
as if it would carry away the mill. The position was no longer
tenable. Still the officer repeated:-
« Stick to it. Half an hour more. ”
Now he counted the minutes. He had promised his superior
officers to hold the enemy there until evening, and would not
draw back a sole's breadth before the time he had set for the
retreat. He still had his gracious manner; smiling at Françoise,
to reassure her. He himself had just picked up a dead soldier's
rifle, and was firing.
There were only four soldiers left in the hall. The Prussians
showed themselves in a body on the other bank of the Morelle,
and it was evident that they might cross the river at any time.
A few minutes more elapsed. The captain stuck to it obsti-
nately, and would not give the order to retreat; when a sergeant
came running up saying: -
« They are on the road: they are going to take us in the
rear. »
The Prussians must have found the bridge. The captain
pulled out his watch.
“Five minutes more,” said he. “They won't be here for five
minutes. »
Then at the stroke of six, he at last consented to order his
men out by a little door opening upon an alley-way. From there
they threw themselves into a ditch; they reached the Sauval for-
est. Before going, the captain saluted old Merlier very politely,
excusing himself; and he even added:
“Make them lose time. We shall be back again. ”
## p. 16309 (#663) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16309
Meanwhile Dominique stayed on in the hall. He still kept
firing, hearing nothing, understanding nothing. He only felt
that he must defend Françoise. The soldiers were gone, without
his suspecting it the least in the world. He took aim and killed
his man at every shot. Suddenly there was a loud noise. The
Prussians, from the rear, had just overrun the court-yard. He
fired his last shot, and they fell upon him as his piece was still
smoking.
Four men held him. Others shouted round him in a fright-
ful language. They all-but cut his throat off-hand. Françoise
threw herself before him in supplication; but an officer came in
and took charge of the prisoner. After a few sentences ex-
changed in German with the soldiers, he turned to Dominique
and said roughly, and in very good French:-
“You will be shot in two hours. »
>>>
III
It was a rule made by the German staff: every Frenchman
not belonging to the regular army, and taken with arms in his
hands, should be shot. Even the guerrilla companies were not
recognized as belligerents. By thus making terrible examples
of the peasants who defended their own firesides, the Germans
wished to prevent the uprising of the whole country en masse,
which they dreaded.
The officer, a tall lean man of about fifty, put Dominique
through a brief examination. Although he spoke very pure
French, he had quite the Prussian stiffness.
“ You belong in these parts ? ”
“No, I am a Belgian. ”
“Why have you taken up arms? All this can't be any of
your business. »
Dominique did not answer. At this moment the officer caught
sight of Françoise, standing upright and very pale, listening; her
slight wound put a red bar across her white forehead. He looked
at the young people, one after the other, seemed to understand,
and contented himself with adding: -
« You don't deny that you were firing ? ”
"I fired as long as I was able,” Dominique answered quietly.
This confession was needless; for he was black with powder,
covered with sweat, spotted with some drops of blood that had
run down from the scratch on his shoulder.
## p. 16310 (#664) ##########################################
16310
ÉMILE ZOLA
>>
a
“Very well,” the officer repeated. « You will be shot in two
hours. ”
Françoise did not cry out. She clasped her hands together,
and raised them in a gesture of mute despair. The officer noticed
this gesture. 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.
mile off, but they doubtless did not know of its existence; and it
was hardly probable that they would try to ford the river. So
the officer merely had the road watched. The whole effort was
to be made on the side toward the fields,
The firing had once more ceased. The mill seemed dead
beneath the hot sun. Not a shutter was opened, not a sound
came from the inside. Little by little, meanwhile, the Prussians
showed themselves at the outskirts of the Gagny wood. They
stretched forth their heads, grew more daring. In the mill, sev-
eral soldiers had already leveled their rifles, but the captain cried
out:
No, no, wait. Let them come up. ”
They were very cautious about it, looking at the mill with
evident distrust. This old dwelling, silent and dismal, with its
curtains of ivy, made them uneasy. Still they kept advancing.
When there were about fifty of them in the meadow opposite,
the officer said a single word:-
« Fire ! »
A tearing sound was heard, followed by single shots. Fran-
çoise, shaken with a fit of trembling, put her hands up to her
ears, in spite of herself. Dominique, behind the soldiers, looked
on; and when the smoke had blown away a little, he saw three
Prussians stretched on their backs in the middle of the field.
The rest had thrown themselves down behind the willows and
poplars; and the siege began.
For over an hour the mill was riddled with bullets. They
whipped its old walls like hail. When they struck stone, you
beard them flatten out and fall back into the water. Into wood
they penetrated with a hollow sound. Now and then a cracking
told that the wheel had been hit. The soldiers inside husbanded
>
## p. 16307 (#661) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16307
>>>
their shots,- fired only when they could take aim. From time to
—
time the captain would look at his watch; and as a ball split a
shutter and then lodged in the ceiling:-
Four o'clock,” he muttered. « We shall never hold out. "
It was true: this terrible firing of musketry was shivering
the old mill. A shutter fell into the water, riddled like a piece
of lace, and had to be replaced by a mattress. Old Merlier
exposed himself every moment, to make sure of the injury done
to his poor wheel, whose cracking went to his heart. It was all
over with it this time: never would he be able to repair it.
Dominique had implored Françoise to go, but she would stay
with him; she had sat down behind a great oak clothes-press, the
sides of which gave out a deep sound. Then Dominique placed
himself in front of Françoise. He had not fired yet; he held his
gun in his hands, not being able to get up to the windows, whose
entire width was taken up by the soldiers. At every discharge
the floor shook.
"Look out! look out! ” the captain cried of a sudden.
'He had just seen a whole black mass come out from the
wood. Immediately a formidable platoon fire was opened. It
was as if a waterspout had passed over the mill. Another shut-
ter gave way; and by the gaping opening of the window the
bullets came in. Two soldiers rolled upon the floor. One did
not move; they pushed him up against the wall, because he was
The other squirmed on the ground, begging them
to make an end of him; but no one minded him: the balls kept
coming in; every one shielded himself, and tried to find a loop-
hole to fire back through. A third soldier was wounded; he said
not a word, he let himself slide down by the edge of a table,
with fixed and haggard eyes. Opposite the dead men, Fran-
çoise, seized with horror, had pushed her chair aside mechanically,
to sit down on the ground next the wall; she felt smaller there,
and in less danger. Meanwhile they had gone after all the mat-
tresses in the house, and had half stopped up the window. The
hall was getting filled with rubbish, with broken weapons, with
gutted furniture.
“Five o'clock," said the captain. « Keep it up.
They are
going to try to cross the water. »
At this instant Françoise gave a shriek. A rebounding ball
had just grazed her forehead. A few drops of blood appeared.
Dominique looked at her; then stepping up to the window, he
in the way.
>>
## p. 16308 (#662) ##########################################
16308
ÉMILE ZOLA
fired his first shot, and kept on firing. He loaded, fired, without
paying any attention to what was going on near him; only from
time to time he would give Françoise a look. For the rest, he
did not hurry himself, - took careful aim. The Prussians, creep-
ing along by the poplars, were attempting the passage of the
Morelle, as the captain had foreseen; but as soon as one of
them risked showing himself, he would fall, hit in the head by a
ball from Dominique. The captain who followed this game was
astonished. He complimented the young man, saying that he
would be glad to have a lot of marksmen like him. Dominique
did not hear him. A ball cut his shoulder, another bruised his
arm; and he kept on firing.
There were two more men killed. The mattresses, all slashed
to bits, no longer stopped up the windows. A last volley seemed
as if it would carry away the mill. The position was no longer
tenable. Still the officer repeated:-
« Stick to it. Half an hour more. ”
Now he counted the minutes. He had promised his superior
officers to hold the enemy there until evening, and would not
draw back a sole's breadth before the time he had set for the
retreat. He still had his gracious manner; smiling at Françoise,
to reassure her. He himself had just picked up a dead soldier's
rifle, and was firing.
There were only four soldiers left in the hall. The Prussians
showed themselves in a body on the other bank of the Morelle,
and it was evident that they might cross the river at any time.
A few minutes more elapsed. The captain stuck to it obsti-
nately, and would not give the order to retreat; when a sergeant
came running up saying: -
« They are on the road: they are going to take us in the
rear. »
The Prussians must have found the bridge. The captain
pulled out his watch.
“Five minutes more,” said he. “They won't be here for five
minutes. »
Then at the stroke of six, he at last consented to order his
men out by a little door opening upon an alley-way. From there
they threw themselves into a ditch; they reached the Sauval for-
est. Before going, the captain saluted old Merlier very politely,
excusing himself; and he even added:
“Make them lose time. We shall be back again. ”
## p. 16309 (#663) ##########################################
ÉMILE ZOLA
16309
Meanwhile Dominique stayed on in the hall. He still kept
firing, hearing nothing, understanding nothing. He only felt
that he must defend Françoise. The soldiers were gone, without
his suspecting it the least in the world. He took aim and killed
his man at every shot. Suddenly there was a loud noise. The
Prussians, from the rear, had just overrun the court-yard. He
fired his last shot, and they fell upon him as his piece was still
smoking.
Four men held him. Others shouted round him in a fright-
ful language. They all-but cut his throat off-hand. Françoise
threw herself before him in supplication; but an officer came in
and took charge of the prisoner. After a few sentences ex-
changed in German with the soldiers, he turned to Dominique
and said roughly, and in very good French:-
“You will be shot in two hours. »
>>>
III
It was a rule made by the German staff: every Frenchman
not belonging to the regular army, and taken with arms in his
hands, should be shot. Even the guerrilla companies were not
recognized as belligerents. By thus making terrible examples
of the peasants who defended their own firesides, the Germans
wished to prevent the uprising of the whole country en masse,
which they dreaded.
The officer, a tall lean man of about fifty, put Dominique
through a brief examination. Although he spoke very pure
French, he had quite the Prussian stiffness.
“ You belong in these parts ? ”
“No, I am a Belgian. ”
“Why have you taken up arms? All this can't be any of
your business. »
Dominique did not answer. At this moment the officer caught
sight of Françoise, standing upright and very pale, listening; her
slight wound put a red bar across her white forehead. He looked
at the young people, one after the other, seemed to understand,
and contented himself with adding: -
« You don't deny that you were firing ? ”
"I fired as long as I was able,” Dominique answered quietly.
This confession was needless; for he was black with powder,
covered with sweat, spotted with some drops of blood that had
run down from the scratch on his shoulder.
## p. 16310 (#664) ##########################################
16310
ÉMILE ZOLA
>>
a
“Very well,” the officer repeated. « You will be shot in two
hours. ”
Françoise did not cry out. She clasped her hands together,
and raised them in a gesture of mute despair. The officer noticed
this gesture. 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.
