But
Napoleon, he was a great man!"
Marthereau is kneeling in front of me in the feeble and scanty rays
of our candle, in the bottom of this dark ill-enclosed hole where
the cold shudders through at intervals, where vermin swarm and where
the sorry crowd of living men endures the faint but musty savor of a
tomb; and Marthereau looks at me. He still hears, as I do, the
unknown soldier who said, "Wilhelm is a stinking beast, but Napoleon
was a great man," and who extolled the martial ardor of the little
boy still left to him. Marthereau droops his arms and wags his weary
head--and the shadow of the double gesture is thrown on the
partition by the lean light in a sudden caricature.
"Ah!" says my humble companion, "we're all of us not bad sorts, and
we're unlucky, and we're poor devils as well. But we're too stupid,
we're too stupid!"
Again he turns his eyes on me. In his bewhiskered and poodle-like
face I see his fine eyes shining in wondering and still confused
contemplation of things which he is setting himself to understand in
the innocence of his obscurity.
We come out of the uninhabitable shelter; the weather has bettered a
little; the snow has melted, and all is soiled anew. "The wind's
licked up the sugar," says Marthereau.
* * * * *
I am deputed to accompany Mesnil Joseph to the refuge on the
Pylones road. Sergeant Henriot gives me charge of the wounded
man and hands me his clearing order. "If you meet Bertrand on the
way," says Henriot, "tell him to look sharp and get busy, will you?"
Bertrand went away on liaison duty last night and they have been
waiting for him for an hour; the captain is getting impatient and
threatens to lose his temper.
Pages:
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333