The Debacle - Emile Zola [179]
Try as he would, he could not repress all his exultant joy. He lowered his voice and added, beaming:
‘This time it really is it! General de Wimpffen has gone off again to sign the capitulation.’
Oh, what a tremendous relief, his factory saved, the dreadful nightmare lifted, life going to start up again, painful no doubt, but life, life! It was nine o’clock and young Rose, who had come to this part of the town to get some bread from an aunt who had a baker’s shop – the streets were now somewhat clearer – had told him all that had happened that morning at the Sub-Prefecture. At eight o’clock General de Wimpffen had called a new council of war, more than thirty generals, and told them the outcome of his move, his useless efforts and the harsh demands of the victorious enemy. His hands were shaking and deep emotion filled his eyes with tears. He was still speaking when a colonel from the Prussian headquarters had appeared as an emissary on behalf of General von Moltke to remind them that if a decision was not reached by ten firing would begin again on Sedan. So the council, in the face of dire necessity, could only authorize the general to go again to the Château de Bellevue and accept everything. He must be there by now and the whole French army must be prisoners, together with arms and baggage.
Rose had then gone into details about the extraordinary sensation the news was creating in the town. At the Sub-Prefecture she had seen officers tearing off their epaulettes and weeping like children. On the bridge cuirassiers were throwing their sabres into the Meuse, and a whole regiment had passed across, each man throwing his own, watching the water splash and close over it. In the streets soldiers were taking hold of their rifles by the barrel and breaking off the butts against the wall, and gunners who had taken the moving parts out of mitrailleuses were getting rid of them down the sewers. Some were burying or burning flags. In the Place Turenne an old sergeant had climbed up on a bollard and was insulting the commanders, calling them cowards as though he had suddenly gone off his head. Others looked stunned and wept silently. But also it had to be admitted that others, and the majority, had expressions of joy in their eyes and happy relief permeating their whole being. At last this was the end of their misery, they were prisoners, they wouldn’t be fighting any more! For so long they had been suffering from too much marching and not enough eating! Besides, what’s the point of fighting if you aren’t the ones who are winning? If their officers had handed them over so as to put an end to it straight away, well, a good job too! It was so nice to think they were going to get some white bread again and sleep in beds!
Upstairs, as Delaherche went into the dining-room with Maurice and Jean, his mother called him.
‘Come here, I’m worried about the colonel.’
Monsieur de Vineuil, with his eyes open, was going on aloud with the delirious visions of his fever.
‘What does it matter if the Prussians do cut us off from Mézières… look, now they’re getting round the Falizette wood, and others are following up the Givonne stream… We’ve got the frontier behind us and we’ll jump across it in one bound when we’ve killed as many of them as possible… That’s what I wanted to do yesterday…’
But his blazing eyes had seen Delaherche. He recognized him and seemed to sober down and emerge from the hallucination of his dreams into the terrible reality, asking for the third time:
‘It’s all over, isn’t it?’
This time the mill-owner could not repress the explosion of his gratification.
‘Yes, thank God, all quite over… The capitulation must be signed by now.’
The colonel struggled violently up, despite his bandaged foot, and he seized his sword, which was on a chair, and tried to break it. But his hands were too shaky and the blade slipped.
‘Look out, he’ll cut himself!’ exclaimed Delaherche. ‘It’s dangerous, take it out of his hands.’
It was Madame Delaherche