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himself silently

brought in Dominique. Francoise at that moment was setting the

table. She did not seem astonished; she contented herself with

putting on an additional plate, knife and fork, but the little

dimples were again seen in her cheeks, and her smile reappeared.

That morning Pere Merlier had sought out Dominique in his hut on the

border of the wood.

 

There the two men had talked for three hours with doors and windows

closed. What was the purport of their conversation no one ever

knew. Certain it was, however, that Pere Merlier, on taking his

departure, already called Dominique his son-in-law. Without doubt

the old man had found the youth he had gone to seek a worthy youth

in the lazy fellow who stretched himself out upon the grass to make

the girls fall in love with him.

 

All Rocreuse clamored. The women at the doors had plenty to say on

the subject of the folly of Pere Merlier, who had thus introduced a

reprobate into his house. The miller let people talk on. Perhaps

he remembered his own marriage. He was without a sou when he wedded

Madeleine and her mill; this, however, had not prevented him from

making a good husband. Besides, Dominique cut short the gossip by

going so vigorously to work that all the district was amazed. The

miller’s assistant had just been drawn to serve as a soldier, and

Dominique would not suffer another to be engaged. He carried the

sacks, drove the cart, fought with the old mill wheel when it

refused to turn, and all this with such good will that people came

to see him out of curiosity. Pere Merlier had his silent laugh. He

was excessively proud of having formed a correct estimate of this

youth. There is nothing like love to give courage to young folks.

Amid all these heavy labors Francoise and Dominique adored each

other. They did not indulge in lovers’ talks, but there was a

smiling gentleness in their glances.

 

Up to that time Pere Merlier had not spoken a single word on the

subject of marriage, and they respected this silence, awaiting the

old man’s will. Finally one day toward the middle of July he caused

three tables to be placed in the courtyard, beneath the great elm,

and invited his friends of Rocreuse to come in the evening and drink

a glass of wine with him.

 

When the courtyard was full and all had their glasses in their

hands, Pere Merlier raised his very high and said:

 

“I have the pleasure to announce to you that Francoise will wed this

young fellow here in a month, on Saint Louis’s Day.”

 

Then they drank noisily. Everybody smiled. But Pere Merlier, again

lifting his voice, exclaimed:

 

“Dominique, embrace your fiancee. It is your right.”

 

They embraced, blushing to the tips of their ears, while all the

guests laughed joyously. It was a genuine fete. They emptied a

small cask of wine. Then when all were gone but intimate friends

the conversation was carried on without noise. The night had

fallen, a starry and cloudless night. Dominique and Francoise,

seated side by side on a bench, said nothing.

 

An old peasant spoke of the war the emperor had declared against

Prussia. All the village lads had already departed. On the

preceding day troops had again passed through the place. There was

going to be hard fighting.

 

“Bah!” said Pere Merlier with the selfishness of a happy man.

“Dominique is a foreigner; he will not go to the war. And if the

Prussians come here he will be on hand to defend his wife!”

 

The idea that the Prussians might come there seemed a good joke.

They were going to receive a sound whipping, and the affair would

soon be over.

 

“I have afready seen them; I have already seen them,” repeated the

old peasant in a hollow voice.

 

There was silence. Then they drank again. Francoise and Dominique

had heard nothing; they had gently taken each other by the hand

behind the bench, so that nobody could see them, and it seemed so

delightful that they remained where they were, their eyes plunged

into the depths of the shadows.

 

What a warm and superb night it was! The village slumbered on both

edges of the white highway in infantile quietude. From time to time

was heard the crowing of some chanticleer aroused too soon. From

the huge wood near by came long breaths, which passed over the roofs

like caresses. The meadows, with their dark shadows, assumed a

mysterious and dreamy majesty, while all the springs, all the

flowing waters which gurgled in the darkness, seemed to be the cool

and rhythmical respiration of the sleeping country. Occasionally

the ancient mill wheel, lost in a doze, appeared to dream like those

old watchdogs that bark while snoring; it cracked; it talked to

itself, rocked by the fall of the Morelle, the surface of which gave

forth the musical and continuous sound of an organ pipe. Never had

more profound peace descended upon a happier corner of nature.

CHAPTER II

THE ATTACK ON THE MILL

 

A month later, on the day preceding that of Saint Louis, Rocreuse

was in a state of terror. The Prussians had beaten the emperor and

were advancing by forced marches toward the village. For a week

past people who hurried along the highway had been announcing them

thus: “They are at Lormiere—they are at Novelles!” And on hearing

that they were drawing near so rapidly, Rocreuse every morning

expected to see them descend from the wood of Gagny. They did not

come, however, and that increased the fright. They would surely

fall upon the village during the night and slaughter everybody.

 

That morning, a little before sunrise, there was an alarm. The

inhabitants were awakened by the loud tramp of men on the highway.

The women were already on their knees, making the sign of the cross,

when some of the people, peering cautiously through the partially

opened windows, recognized the red pantaloons. It was a French

detachment. The captain immediately asked for the mayor of the

district and remained at the mill after having talked with Pere

Merlier.

 

The sun rose gaily that morning. It would be hot at noon. Over the

wood floated a golden brightness, while in the distance white vapors

arose from the meadows. The neat and pretty village awoke amid the

fresh air, and the country, with its river and its springs, had the

moist sweetness of a bouquet. But that beautiful day caused nobody

to smile. The captain was seen to take a turn around the mill,

examine the neighboring houses, pass to the other side of the

Morelle and from there study the district with a field glass; Pere

Merlier, who accompanied him, seemed to be giving him explanations.

Then the captain posted soldiers behind the walls, behind the trees

and in the ditches. The main body of the detachment encamped in the

courtyard of the mill. Was there going to be a battle? When Pere

Merlier returned he was questioned. He nodded his head without

speaking. Yes, there was going to be a battle!

 

Francoise and Dominique were in the courtyard; they looked at him.

At last he took his pipe from his mouth and said:

 

“Ah, my poor young ones, you cannot get married tomorrow!”

 

Dominique, his lips pressed together, with an angry frown on his

forehead, at times raised himself on tiptoe and fixed his eyes upon

the wood of Gagny, as if he wished to see the Prussians arrive.

Francoise, very pale and serious, came and went, furnishing the

soldiers with what they needed. The troops were making soup in a

corner of the courtyard; they joked while waiting for it to get

ready.

 

The captain was delighted. He had visited the chambers and the huge

hall of the mill which looked out upon the river. Now, seated

beside the well, he was conversing with Pere Merlier.

 

“Your mill is a real fortress,” he said. “We can hold it without

difficulty until evening. The bandits are late. They ought to be

here.”

 

The miller was grave. He saw his mill burning like a torch, but he

uttered no complaint, thinking such a course useless. He merely

said:

 

“You had better hide the boat behind the wheel; there is a place

there just fit for that purpose. Perhaps it will be useful to have

the boat.”

 

The captain gave the requisite order. This officer was a handsome

man of forty; he was tall and had an amiable countenance. The sight

of Francoise and Dominique seemed to please him. He contemplated

them as if he had forgotten the coming struggle. He followed

Francoise with his eyes, and his look told plainly that he thought

her charming. Then turning toward Dominique, he asked suddenly:

 

“Why are you not in the army, my good fellow?”

 

“I am a foreigner,” answered the young man.

 

The captain evidently did not attach much weight to this reason. He

winked his eye and smiled. Francoise was more agreeable company

than a cannon. On seeing him smile, Dominique added:

 

“I am a foreigner, but I can put a ball in an apple at five hundred

meters. There is my hunting gun behind you.”

 

“You may have use for it,” responded the captain dryly.

 

Francoise had approached, somewhat agitated. Without heeding the

strangers present Dominique took and grasped in his the two hands

she extended to him, as if to put herself under his protection. The

captain smiled again but said not a word. He remained seated, his

sword across his knees and his eyes plunged into space, lost in a

reverie.

 

It was already ten o’clock. The heat had become very great. A

heavy silence prevailed. In the courtyard, in the shadows of the

sheds, the soldiers had begun to eat their soup. Not a sound came

from the village; all its inhabitants had barricaded the doors and

windows of their houses. A dog, alone upon the highway, howled.

From the neighboring forests and meadows, swooning in the heat, came

a prolonged and distant voice made up of all the scattered breaths.

A cuckoo sang. Then the silence grew more intense.

 

Suddenly in that slumbering air a shot was heard. The captain

leaped briskly to his feet; the soldiers left their plates of soup,

yet half full. In a few seconds everybody was at the post of duty;

from bottom to top the mill was occupied. Meanwhile the captain,

who had gone out upon the road, had discovered nothing; to the right

and to the left the highway stretched out, empty and white. A

second shot was heard, and still nothing visible, not even a shadow.

But as he was returning the captain perceived in the direction of

Gagny, between two trees, a light puff of smoke whirling away like

thistledown. The wood was calm and peaceful.

 

“The bandits have thrown themselves into the forest,” he muttered.

“They know we are here.”

 

Then the firing continued, growing more and more vigorous, between

the French soldiers posted around the mill and the Prussians hidden

behind the trees. The balls whistled above the Morelle without

damaging either side. The fusillade was irregular, the shots coming

from every bush, and still only the little puffs of smoke, tossed

gently by the breeze, were seen. This lasted nearly two hours. The

officer hummed a tune with an air of indifference. Francoise and

Dominique, who had remained in the courtyard, raised themselves on

tiptoe and looked over a low wall. They were particularly

interested in a little soldier posted on the shore of the Morelle,

behind the remains of an old bateau; he stretched himself out flat

on

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