The Debacle - Emile Zola [81]
‘And then you’ve no idea what went on… It seems these men had been on the march for three days and had just been fighting like maniacs at Beaumont. So they were starving and half crazy, with their eyes popping out of their heads. The officers didn’t even attempt to hold them in check and they all broke into houses and shops, smashing in doors and windows, breaking furniture, looking for something to eat and drink, swallowing anything that came to hand… I saw one of them in Simmonot’s, the grocer’s, ladling treacle out of a tub with his helmet. Others were gnawing at pieces of raw bacon. Others chewed flour. It had already been said that there was nothing left as our soldiers had been passing through for forty-eight hours, and yet they could still find things – hidden stores no doubt – and so went on deliberately destroying everything, thinking they were being refused food. In less than an hour grocers, bakers, butchers and even private houses had their windows smashed, cupboards rifled, cellars broken into and emptied. At the doctor’s – you just can’t imagine it – I found one great lout eating all the soap. But it was in the cellar that the real pillage went on. From upstairs you could hear them down there howling like wild beasts, breaking bottles, opening the taps of casks, and the wine gushed out with a noise like a fountain. They came up with their hands red after paddling about in all that spilt wine… And this is the sort of thing that happens when men go back to savagery: Monsieur Dalichamp tried in vain to prevent a soldier from drinking off a litre of laudanum he had discovered. That poor devil must be dead by now, he was in such agonies when I left.’
She began shaking violently, and covered her eyes with both hands so as not see any more.
‘No, no, I’ve seen too much, I can’t say another word!’
Old Fouchard, who had stayed out in the road, had come and stood by the window to listen, and this tale gave him food for thought; he had been told that the Prussians paid for everything, were they going to start thieving now? Maurice and Jean were also listening intently to all these details about the enemy that this girl had just seen, and whom they had never succeeded in setting eyes on in a whole month of war. But Honoré, lost in thought and betraying his emotions by the expression of his mouth, was only interested in her, and thinking of nothing but the old trouble that had separated them.
Just then the door of the next room opened and the child Chariot appeared. He must have heard his mother’s voice, and he ran over in his nightshirt to kiss her. Pink, fair and very chubby, he had a mop of light curly hair and big blue eyes.
Silvine was startled at seeing him so suddenly, as if taken off her guard by the picture he conjured up. Was it that she did not recognize him, this beloved child of hers, that she should now look at him in terror as though he were a nightmare come to life? She burst into tears.
‘My poor darling!’
She crushed him wildly in her arms and held him to her, while Honoré, deathly pale, saw the extraordinary likeness between Charlot and Goliath, the same square, blond head, the whole Germanic race in a lovely, healthy child, fresh and smiling. The son of the Prussian, or ‘that Prussian’, as all the jokers in Remilly called him! And here was this French mother holding him to her heart while she was still overwhelmed and haunted by the sight of the invaders!
‘Now, my poor lamb, be a good boy and come back to bed… Come along to bye-byes, sweetie.’
She carried him off. When she came back from the next room she had stopped crying and recovered her calm face, with its expression of placidity and courage.
It was Honoré who started the conversation again, in a hesitant voice:
‘And what about the Prussians?’
‘Oh yes, the Prussians… Well, they had broken up everything, and pillaged, eaten and drunk everything. They stole the linen too, towels, sheets and even curtains, which they tore into long strips to bandage their feet with. I saw some whose feet were just one