The Debacle - Emile Zola [204]
‘Anyway,’ Delaherche concluded, ‘you will have had something to eat tonight, and I am very sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t get another permit.’
He asked if they had any errands he could do, and kindly took pencilled letters that other soldiers entrusted to him, for Bavarians had been seen laughing as they lit their pipes with letters they had promised to send off.
As Maurice and Jean were walking with him to the bridge Delaherche exclaimed:
‘Look! There she is, Henriette!… You can see her waving her handkerchief.’
Beyond the line of sentries, in the crowd, they did make out a little, slim figure and a white point moving in the sun. They were both deeply moved and had tears in their eyes as they raised their arms and answered her with frantic waving.
The next day, Friday, was the most terrible of all for Maurice. And yet, after another quiet night in the little copse, he had had the good luck to eat some bread again, for Jean had discovered a woman in the Château de Villette who sold some at ten francs a pound. But that day they witnessed a gruesome scene which haunted them long afterwards like a nightmare.
On the previous day Chouteau had noticed that Pache had given up grumbling and looked dreamy and contented like a man who has eaten his fill. This at once suggested to him that the artful dodger must have a secret hoard somewhere, especially as that morning he had noticed that he went off for about an hour and then reappeared with a furtive smile and his mouth full. Surely he had had some stroke of luck and got hold of some food in one of the scrimmages. So Chouteau worked Loubet and Lapoulle up, especially the latter. Well, of all the filthy shits, to have something to eat and not share it out with his mates!
‘Tell you what, we’ll follow him tonight. We’ll see if he dares to stuff his guts all on his own when other poor sods are dying of hunger all round him.’
‘Yes, yes, you’re right, we’ll follow him,’ Lapoulle echoed furiously. ‘Then we shall see!’
His fists were clenched, and the mere hope of having something to eat at last was turning him into a madman. His huge appetite tormented him more than the others, and it was such a torture that he had tried to chew grass. Since the night before last, when the horsemeat and beetroot had given him such awful dysentery, he had had nothing at all, for his great body was so clumsy although it was so strong that he never got hold of anything in any scrum for food. He would have given his life-blood for a pound of bread.
As night was falling Pache slipped away among the trees of La Tour à Glaire and the three others stealthily followed.
‘He mustn’t suspect,’ whispered Chouteau. ‘Be careful in case he turns round.’
But some hundred paces further on Pache obviously thought he was alone, for he began walking fast without even bothering to look back. They had no trouble in following him as far as the quarries and were at his heels as he was moving two large stones and getting half a loaf out from underneath. It was the end of his provisions, still enough for one meal.
‘You fucking fraud!’ bawled Lapoulle. ‘So that’s why you hide! Give me that, it’s my share.’
Give up his bread, why should he? Little shrimp he might be, but anger stiffened him up, and he hugged the bread to his bosom with all his strength. He was hungry too.
‘Piss off, do you hear! It’s mine!’
As Lapoulle raised his fist he took to his heels and ran down from the quarry to the open land towards Donchery. The three others gave chase at full speed, breathing hard. But he was leaving them behind, for he was lighter in build and so frightened and so determined to keep what was his own that he seemed to be borne