17
In the Sap
IN the excitement of a distribution of letters from which the squad
were returning--some with the delight of a letter, some with the
semi-delight of a postcard, and others with a new load (speedily
reassumed) of expectation and hope--a comrade comes with a
brandished newspaper to tell us an amazing story--"Tu sais, the
weasel-faced ancient at Gauchin?"
"The old boy who was treasure-seeking?"
"Well, he's found it!"
"Gerraway!"
"It's just as I tell you, you great lump! What would you like me to
say to you? Mass? Don't know it. Anyway, the yard of his place has
been bombed, and a chest full of money was turned up out of the
ground near a wall. He got his treasure full on the back. And now
the parson's quietly cut in and talks about claiming credit for the
miracle"
We listen open-mouthed. "A treasure--well! well! The old bald-head!"
The sudden revelation plunges us in an abyss of reflection. "And to
think how damned sick we were of the old cackler when he made such a
song about his treasure and dinned it into our ears!"
"We were right enough down there, you remember, when we were saying
'One never knows.' Didn't guess how near we were to being right,
either."
"All the same, there are some things you can be sure of," says
Farfadet, who as soon as Gauchin was mentioned had remained dreaming
and distant, as though a lovely face was smiling on him. "But as for
this," he added, "I'd never have believed it either! Shan't I find
him stuck up, the old ruin, when I go back there after the war!"
* * * * * *
"They want a willing man to help the sappers with a job," says the
big adjutant.
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