The Debacle - Emile Zola [127]
The King had asked briefly for some bit of information. On the colossal chessboard he wanted to know everything and keep a hand on this multitude of men under his command. To his right a flight of swallows, scared by the gunfire, wheeled upwards very high and was lost to sight in the south.
4
AT first Henriette could make good speed along the Balan road. It was not much after nine, and the wide street between houses and gardens was still passable, though as she approached the village it became increasingly blocked by fugitives and troops on the move. As each fresh wave of people came along she hugged the wall and managed to slip past all the same. Being very small and inconspicuous in her dark dress, with her lovely fair hair and little pale face half hidden by the black lace scarf, she passed unnoticed and nothing slowed her lithe, quiet step.
But in Balan itself there was a regiment of marines blocking the road, a solid mass of men waiting for orders in the shade of the big trees which concealed them. She stood on tiptoe but could not see the end of them. Yet she tried to make herself smaller still and wriggle through. Elbows shoved her away and she felt rifle-butts sticking into her. She had done some twenty steps when there were shouts and protests. A captain turned round and let fly at her:
‘Here, woman, are you mad? Where are you off to?’
‘I’m going to Bazeilles.’
‘Bazeilles? What are you talking about?’
There was a general burst of laughter, and they pointed her out to each other and joked. The captain joined in the mirth and went on:
‘Bazeilles, my dear, I wish you could take us with you!… We were there just now and I hope we’re going back, but I warn you that you won’t feel cold there.’
‘I’m going to Bazeilles to join my husband,’ Henriette declared in her gentle voice, and her light blue eyes kept their quiet determination.
The laughter stopped, and an old sergeant got her away from them and forced her to turn back.
‘Poor child, you can see it’s impossible for you to get through… It’s no woman’s job to go to Bazeilles just now… You’ll find that husband of yours later. Now come along, do be sensible!’
She had to give in and stood still, jumping up every minute to see as far as she could, obstinately determined to go on her way. She gathered a little information from what she heard round her. Officers were bitterly complaining about the order to retreat which had made them abandon Bazeilles at quarter past eight when General Ducrot, taking over from the marshal, had got it into his head to try to concentrate all the troops on the plateau of Illy. The worst of it was that the 1st corps having fallen back too soon and thus handed over the Givonne valley to the Germans, the 12th, already under strong attack from the front, had been outflanked on its left. And now General de Wimpffen had succeeded General Ducrot and the original plan was in favour again, so that orders were coming in to reoccupy Bazeilles at all costs and throw the Bavarians into the Meuse. Wasn’t it crazy to have made them give up a position that they had now got to retake? They were prepared to face death, but really – not for fun!
There was a great surge of men and horses and General de Wimpffen appeared, standing in his stirrups, his face radiant and his voice inspired, shouting:
‘My friends, we can’t fall back, it would be the end of everything… If we have to beat a retreat it will be