Five or six were in a heap before the door, and three others were stretched upon the highway.
This did not take more than ten minutes; then all was dark again, and I heard the sergeant call: “Cease firing!”
Heitz, who had come down from his hay-loft, had just lighted a lantern; the sergeant seeing me under the wagon, called out: “Are you wounded, Father Moses?”
“No,” I replied, “but a Cossack tried to thrust his lance into me, and I got into a safe place.”
He laughed aloud, and gave me his hand to help me to rise.
“Father Moses,” said he, “I was frightened about you. Wipe your back; people might think you were not brave.”
I laughed too, and thought: “People may think what they please! The great thing is to live in good health as long as possible.”
We had only one wounded, Corporal Duhem, an old man, who bandaged his own leg, and tried to walk. He had had a blow from a lance in the right calf. He was placed on the first wagon, and Lehnel, Heitz’s granddaughter, came and gave him a drop of cherry-brandy, which at once restored his strength and even his good spirits.
“It is the fifteenth,” he exclaimed. “I am in for a week at the hospital; but leave me the bottle for the compresses.”
I was delighted to see my twelve pipes on the wagons, for Schweyer and his two boys had run away, and without their help we could hardly have reloaded.
I tapped at once at the bung-hole of the hindmost cask to find out how much was missing. These scamps of Cossacks had already drunk nearly half a measure of spirits; Father Heitz told me that some of them scarcely added a drop of water. Such creatures must have throats of tin; the oldest topers among us could not bear a glass of three-six without being upset.
At last all was ready and we had only to return to the city. When I think of it, it all seems before me now: Heitz’s large dapple-gray horses going out of the stable one by one; the sergeant standing by the dark door with his lantern in his hand, and calling out, “Come, hurry up! The rascals may come back!” On the road in front of the inn, the veterans surrounded the wagons; farther on the right some peasants, who had hastened to the scene with pitchforks and mattocks, were looking at the dead Cossacks, and myself, standing on the stairs above, singing praises to God in my heart as I thought how glad Sorlé and Zeffen and little Sâfel would be to see me come back with our goods.
And then when all is ready, when the little bells jingle, when the whip snaps, and we start on the way—what delight!
Ah Fritz! everything looks bright after thirty years; we forget fears, anxieties, and fatigues; but the memory of good men and happy hours remains with us forever!
The veterans, on both sides of the wagons, with their muskets under their arms, escorted my twelve pipes as if they were the tabernacle; Heitz led the horses, and the sergeant and I walked behind.
“Well, Father Moses!” said he laughing, “it has all gone off well; are you satisfied?”
“More than I can possibly tell, sergeant! What would have been my ruin will make the fortune of my family, and we owe it all to you.”
“Go along,” said he, “you are joking.”
He laughed, but I felt deeply; to have been in danger of losing everything, and then to regain it all and make profit out of it—it makes one feel deeply.
I exclaimed inwardly: “I will praise thee, O Lord, among the people; and I will sing praises unto thee among the nations.
“For thy mercy is great above the heavens, and thy truth reacheth unto the clouds.”
CHAPTER XI
FATHER MOSES RETURNS IN TRIUMPH
Now I must tell you about our return to Phalsburg.
You may suppose that my wife and children, after seeing me take my gun and go away, were in a state of great anxiety. About five o’clock Sorlé went out with Zeffen to try to learn what was going on, and only then they heard that I had started for Mittelbronn with a detachment of veterans.
Imagine their terror!
The rumor of these extraordinary proceedings had spread through the city, and quantities of people were on the bastion of the artillery barracks, looking on from the distance. Burguet was there, with the mayor, and other persons of distinction, and a number of women and children, all trying to see through the darkness. Some insisted that Moses marched with the detachment, but nobody would believe it, and Burguet exclaimed: “It is not possible that a sensible man like Moses would go and risk his life in fighting Cossacks—no, it is not possible!”
If I had been in his place I should have said the same of him. But what can you do, Fritz? The most prudent of men become blind when their property is at stake; blind, I say, and terrible, for they lose sight of danger.
This crowd was waiting, as I said, and soon Zeffen and Sorlé came, as pale as death, with their large shawls over their heads. They went up the rampart and stood there, with their feet in the snow, too much frightened to speak.
I learned these things afterward.
When Zeffen and her mother went up on the bastion, it was, perhaps, half-past five; there was not a star to be seen. Just at that time, Schweyer and his boys ran away, and five minutes later the skirmish began.
Burguet told me afterward that, notwithstanding the darkness and the distance, they saw the flash of the muskets around the inn as plainly as if they were a hundred paces off, and everybody was still and listened to hear the shots, which were repeated by the echoes of the Bois-de-Chênes and Lutzelburg.
When they ceased Sorlé descended from the slope leaning on Zeffen’s arm, for she could not support herself. Burguet helped them to reach the street, and took them into old Frise’s house on the corner, where they found him warming himself gloomily by his hearth.
“My last day has come!” said Sorlé. Zeffen wept bitterly.
I have often reproached myself for having caused this sorrow, but who can answer for his own wisdom? Has not the wise man himself said: “I turned myself to behold wisdom, and madness, and folly; and I saw that wisdom excelleth folly; and I myself perceived that one event happeneth to the wise man and the fool. Wherefore, I said in my heart, that wisdom also is vanity.”
Burguet was going out from Father Frise’s when Schweyer and his sons came up the postern stairs, crying out that we were surrounded by Cossacks and lost. Fortunately my wife and daughter could not hear them, and the mayor soon came along and ordered them to stop talking and go home quickly, if they did not want to be sent to prison.
They obeyed, but that did not prevent people from believing what they said, especially as it was all dark again in the direction of Mittelbronn.
The crowd came down from the ramparts and filled the street; many of them went to their homes thinking they should never see us again, when, just as the clock struck seven, the sentinel of the outworks called out, “Who goes there?”
We had reached the gate.
The crowd was soon on the ramparts again. The squad in front of the sergeant on duty flew to arms; they had just recognized us.
We heard the murmur, without knowing what it was. So, when, after a reconnoissance, the gates were slowly opened to us, and the two bridges lowered for us to pass, what was our surprise at hearing the shouts: “Hurrah for Father Moses! Hurrah for the spirits of wine!”
The tears came to my eyes. And my wagons rolling heavily under the gates, the soldiers presented arms to us, the great crowd surrounding us, shouting: “Moses! Hey, Moses! are you all right? you have not been killed?” the shouts of laughter, the people seizing my arm to hear me tell about the fight,—all these things were very pleasant.
Everybody wanted to talk with me, even the mayor, and I had not time to answer them.
But all this was nothing compared with the joy I felt at seeing Sorlé, Zeffen, and little Sâfel run from Father Frise’s and throw themselves all at once into my arms, exclaiming: “He is safe! he is safe!”
Ah, Fritz! what are honors by the side of such love? What is all the glory of the world compared with the joy of s
eeing our beloved ones? The others might have cried out, “Hurrah for Moses!” a hundred years, and I would not even have turned my head; but I was terribly moved by the sight of my family.
I gave Sâfel my gun, and while the wagons, escorted by the veterans, went on toward the little market, I led Zeffen and Sorlé through the crowd to old Frise’s, and there, when we were alone, we began to hug each other again.
Without, the shouts of joy were redoubled; you would have thought that the spirits of wine belonged to the whole city. But within the room, my wife and daughter burst into tears, and I confessed my imprudence.
So, instead of telling them of the dangers I had experienced, I told them that the Cossacks ran away as soon as they saw us, and that we had only to put horses to the wagons before starting.
A quarter of an hour afterward, when the cries and tumult had ceased, I went out, with Zeffen and Sorlé on my arms, and little Sâfel in front, with my gun on his shoulder, and in this way we went home, to see to the unlading of the brandy.
I wanted to put everything in order before morning, so as to begin to sell at double price as soon as possible.
When a man runs such risks he ought to make something by it; for if he should sell at cost price, as some persons wish, nobody would be willing to run any risk for the sake of others; and if it should come to pass that a man should sacrifice himself for other people, he would be thought a blockhead; we have seen it a hundred times, and it will always be so.
Thank God! such ideas never entered into my head! I have always thought that the true idea of trade was to make as much profit as we can, honestly and lawfully.
That is according to justice and good sense.
As we turned at the corner of the market, our two wagons were already unharnessed before our house. Heitz was running back with his horses, so as to take advantage of the open gates, and the veterans, with their arms at will, were going up the street toward the infantry quarters.
It might have been eight o’clock. Zeffen and Sorlé went to bed, and I sent Sâfel for Gros the cooper, to come and unload the casks. Quantities of people came and offered to help us. Gros came soon with his boys, and the work began.
It is very pleasant, Fritz, to see great tuns going into your cellar, and to say to yourself, “These splendid tuns are mine: it is spirits which cost me twenty sous the quart, and which I am going to sell for three francs!” This shows the beauty of trade; but everybody can imagine the pleasure for himself—there is no use in speaking of it.
About midnight my twelve pipes were down on the stands, and there was nothing left to do but to broach them.
While the crowd was dispersing, I engaged Gros to come in the morning to help me mix the spirits with water, and we went up, well pleased with our day’s work. We closed the double oak door, and I fastened the padlock and went to bed.
What a pleasure it is to own something and feel that it is all safe!
This is how my twelve pipes were saved.
You see now, Fritz, what anxieties and fears we had at that time. Nobody was sure of anything; for you must not suppose that I was the only one living like a bird on the branch; there were hundreds of others who were not able to close their eyes. You should have seen how the citizens looked every morning, when they heard that the Austrians and Russians occupied Alsace, that the Prussians were marching upon Sarrebruck, or when an order was published for domiciliary visits, or for days’ labor to wall up the posterns and orillons of the place, or to form companies of firemen to remove at once all inflammable matter, or to report to the governor the situation of the city treasury, and the list of the principal persons subject to taxes for the supply of shoes, caps, bed-linen, and so forth.
You should have seen how people looked at each other.
In war times civil life is nothing, and they will take from you your last shirt, giving you the governor’s receipt for it. The first men of the land are zeros when the governor has spoken. This is why I have often thought that everybody who wishes for war, or at least wants to be a soldier, is either demented or half ruined, and hopes to better himself by the ruin of everybody else. It must be so.
But notwithstanding all these troubles, I could not lose time, and I spent all the next day in mixing my spirits. I took off my cloak, and drew out with great gusto. Gros and his boys brought jugs, and emptied them in the casks which I had bought beforehand, so that by evening these casks were brimful of good white brandy, eighteen degrees.
I had caramel prepared, also, to give the brandy a good color of old cognac, and when I turned the faucet, and raised the glass before the candle, and saw that it was exactly the right tint, I was in ecstasies, and exclaimed: “Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts! Let him drink and remember his misery no more.”
Father Gros, standing at my side on his great flat feet, smiled quietly, and his boys looked well pleased.
I filled the glass for them; they passed it to each other and were delighted with it.
About five o’clock we went upstairs. Sâfel, on the same day, had brought three workmen, and had them remove our old iron into the court under the shed. The old rickety storehouse was cleaned. Desmarets, the joiner, put up some shelves behind the door in the arch, for holding bottles, and glasses, and tin measures, when the time for selling should come, and his son put together the planks of the counter. This was all done at once, as at a time of great pressure, when people like to make a good sum of money quickly.
I looked at it all with a good deal of satisfaction. Zeffen, with her baby in her arms, and Sorlé, had also come down. I showed my wife the place behind the counter, and said, “That is the place where you are to sit, with your feet in loose slippers, and a warm tippet on your shoulders, and sell our brandy.”
She smiled as she thought of it.
Our neighbors, Bailly the armorer, Koffel the little weaver, and several others, came and looked on without speaking; they were astonished to see what quick work we were making.
At six o’clock, just as Desmarets laid aside his hammer, the sergeant arrived in great glee, on his return from the cantine.
“Well, Father Moses!” he exclaimed, “the work goes on! But there is still something wanting.”
“What is that, sergeant?”
“Hi! It is all right, only you must put a screen up above, or look out for the shells!”
I saw that he was right, and we were all well frightened, except the neighbors, who laughed to see our surprise.
“Yes,” said the sergeant, “we must have it.”
This took away all my pleasure; I saw that our troubles were not yet at an end.
Sorlé, Zeffen, and I went up, while Desmarets closed the door. Supper was ready; we sat down thoughtfully, and little Sâfel brought the keys.
The noise had ceased without; now and then a citizen on patrol passed by.
The sergeant came to smoke his pipe as usual. He explained how the screens were made, by crossing beams in the form of a sentry-box, the two sides supported against the gables, but while he maintained that it would hold like an arch, I did not think it strong enough, and I saw by Sorlé’s face that she thought as I did.
We sat there talking till ten o’clock, and then all went to bed.
CHAPTER XII
THE ENEMY REPULSED
About one o’clock in the morning of the sixth of January, the day of the feast of the Kings, the enemy arrived on the hill of Saverne.
It was terribly cold, our windows under the persiennes were white with frost. I woke as the clock struck one; they were beating the call at the infantry barracks.
You can have no idea how it sounded in the silence of the night.
“Dost thou hear, Moses?” whispered Sorlé.
“Yes, I hear,” said I, almost without breathing.
After a minute some windows were opened in our street, and we knew that others too were listening; then we heard running, and suddenly the cry, “To arms! to arms!�
��
It made one’s hair stand on end.
I had just risen, and was lighting a lamp, when we heard two knocks at our door.
“Come in!” said Sorlé, trembling.
The sergeant opened the door. He was in marching equipments, with his gaiters on his legs, his large gray cap turned up at the sides, his musket on his shoulder, and his sabre and cartridge-box on his back.
“Father Moses,” said he, “go back to bed and be quiet: it is the battalion call at the barracks, and has nothing to do with you.”
And we saw at once that he was right, for the drums did not come up the street two by two, as when the National Guard was called in.
“Thank you, sergeant,” I said.
“Go to sleep!” said he, and he went down the stairs.
The door of the alley below slammed to. Then the children, who had waked up, began to cry. Zeffen came in, very pale, with her baby in her arms, exclaiming, “Mercy! What is the matter?”
“It is nothing, Zeffen,” said Sorlé. “It is nothing, my child: they are beating the call for the soldiers.”
At the same moment the battalion came down the main street. We heard them march as far as to the Place d’Armes, and beyond it toward the German gate.
We shut the windows, Zeffen went back to her room, and I lay down again.
But how could I sleep after such a start? My head was full of a thousand thoughts: I fancied the arrival of the Russians on the hill this cold night, and our soldiers marching to meet them, or manning the ramparts. I thought of all the blindages and block-houses, and batteries inside the bastions, and that all these great works had been made to guard against bombs and shells, and I exclaimed inwardly: “Before the enemy has demolished all these works, our houses will be crushed, and we shall be exterminated to the last man.”
I took on in this way for about half an hour, thinking of all the calamities which threatened us, when I heard outside the city, toward Quatre-Vents, a kind of heavy rolling, rising and falling like the murmur of running water. This was repeated every second. I raised myself on my elbow to listen, and I knew that it was a fight far more terrible than that at Mittelbronn, for the rolling did not stop, but seemed rather to increase.
The Erckmann-Chatrian Megapack: 20 Classic Novels and Short Stories Page 81