Part 4

--Since you are so eager to fight, she said to him at last, half convinced, you should have enlisted in a regiment on arriving in Paris. By treating a sergeant to a drink, your affair would have been settled! The jailer added much good advice for the future, and finally, at the first break of day, put Fabrice out of her house, after making him swear a hundred and a hundred times that he would never pronounce her name, whatever might happen. As soon as Fabrice had left the little town, marching briskly with the hussar's sabre under his arm, a scruple came to him. Here I am, he said to himself, with the uniform and the route sheet of a hussar who died in prison, where, it is said, the theft of a cow and some silver plate had brought him. I have, so to speak, succeeded to his being... and that without willing it or foreseeing it in any manner! Beware of prison!... The omen is clear, I shall suffer much from prison!

It was not an hour since Fabrice had left his benefactress, when the rain began to fall with such force that the new hussar could scarcely walk, encumbered by coarse boots that were not made for him. He met a peasant mounted on a wretched horse, he bought the horse by explaining himself with signs; the jailer had recommended him to speak as little as possible, because of his accent.

That day the army, which had just won the battle of Ligny, was in full march upon Brussels; it was on the eve of the battle of Waterloo. Toward noon, the pouring rain still continuing, Fabrice heard the noise of cannon; this happiness made him utterly forget the dreadful moments of despair that so unjust a prison had just given him. He marched until late at night, and as he was beginning to have some common sense, he went to lodge in a peasant's house far from the road. This peasant was weeping and claimed that everything had been taken from him; Fabrice gave him a crown, and he found some oats. My horse is not handsome, said Fabrice to himself; but what matter, he might well find favor with some adjutant, and he went to sleep in the stable at his side. An hour before daybreak, the next day, Fabrice was on the road, and, by dint of caresses, he had succeeded in getting his horse to trot. Toward five o'clock, he heard the cannonade: these were the preliminaries of Waterloo.

CHAPTER III

Fabrice soon came upon some sutlers, and the extreme gratitude he felt toward the jailer of B... led him to address them: he asked one of them where the 4th regiment of hussars was, to which he belonged.

--You would do just as well not to hurry so, my little soldier, said the cantinière, touched by Fabrice's paleness and fine eyes. You have not yet a firm enough grip for the sabre strokes that are going to be given today. If only you had a rifle, I say nothing, you could let fly your ball like anyone else.

This counsel displeased Fabrice; but though he urged his horse, he could not go faster than the cantinière's cart. From time to time the noise of the cannon seemed to draw nearer and prevented them from hearing each other, for Fabrice was so beside himself with enthusiasm and happiness, that he had renewed the conversation. Each word of the cantinière redoubled his happiness by making him understand it. With the exception of his true name and his flight from prison, he ended by telling everything to this woman who seemed so good. She was much astonished and understood nothing at all of what this handsome young soldier told her.

--I see the upshot, she cried at last with a triumphant air: you are a young bourgeois in love with the wife of some captain of the 4th hussars. Your sweetheart will have made you a gift of the uniform you wear, and you are running after her. Truly, as God is on high, you have never been a soldier; but, being a brave lad as you are, since your regiment is in the fire, you wish to show yourself there, and not be taken for a coward.

Fabrice agreed to all: it was the only means he had of receiving good advice. "I am ignorant of all the ways of these French," he said to himself, "and, if I am not guided by someone, I shall yet manage to get myself thrown in prison, and my horse will be stolen from me."

--First of all, my little one, said the cantinière, who was becoming more and more his friend, admit that you are not twenty-one: it is the utmost if you are seventeen.

It was the truth, and Fabrice avowed it with good grace.

--Thus, you are not even a conscript; it is solely on account of the fine eyes of the lady that you are going to get your bones broken. The plague! she is not hard to please. If you still have some of those gold pieces she gave you, you must first buy another horse; see how your nag pricks up its ears when the cannon roars somewhat near; that is a peasant's horse which will get you killed as soon as you are in line. That white smoke, which you see yonder over the hedge, those are platoon fires, my little one! So, prepare yourself to have a famous fright, when you are going to hear the balls whistle. You would also do well to eat a bite while you still have time.

Fabrice followed this advice, and, presenting a napoleon to the sutler, begged her to help herself.

--It is a pity to see it! cried the woman; the poor little fellow does not even know how to spend his money! You would deserve that, after grabbing your napoleon, I should make Cocotte take her great trot; the devil if your nag could follow me. What would you do, fool, seeing me bolt? Learn that, when the brute growls, one never shows gold. Here, she said to him, there are eighteen francs fifty centimes, and your breakfast costs thirty sous. Now, we shall soon have horses to resell. If the beast is small, you will give ten francs for it, and, in any case, never more than twenty francs, were it the horse of the four sons Aymon.

Breakfast finished, the vivandière, who was still holding forth, was interrupted by a woman who was advancing across the fields, and who passed onto the road.

--Hola, hey! cried this woman to her; hola! Margot! your 6th light is on the right.

--I must leave you, my little one, said the vivandière to our hero; but truly you move my pity; I have a liking for you, sacré dié! You know nothing of anything, you are going to be snuffed out, as God is God! Come along to the 6th light with me.

--I well understand that I know nothing, said Fabrice to her, but I wish to fight and am resolved to go yonder toward that white smoke.

--Look how your horse moves its ears! As soon as it is there, however little vigor it has, it will force your hand, it will break into a gallop, and God knows where it will lead you. Will you take my advice? As soon as you are with the little soldiers, pick up a rifle and a cartridge-box, place yourself beside the soldiers and do exactly as they do. But, my God, I wager you do not even know how to tear a cartridge.

Fabrice, much piqued, nevertheless confessed to his new friend that she had guessed right.

--Poor little one! he is going to be killed right away; true as God! it will not be long. You absolutely must come with me, resumed the cantinière with an air of authority.

--But I wish to fight.

--You will fight too; go on, the 6th light is a famous one, and today there is enough for everyone.

--But shall we soon be at your regiment?

--In a quarter of an hour at most.

"Recommended by this brave woman," said Fabrice to himself, "my ignorance of all things will not get me taken for a spy, and I shall be able to fight." At this moment, the noise of the cannon redoubled, one shot did not wait for the other.

--It is like a rosary, said Fabrice.

--One is beginning to distinguish the platoon fires, said the vivandière, giving a crack of the whip to her little horse, which seemed all animated by the fire.

The cantinière turned to the right and took a cross-path amid the meadows; there was a foot of mud; the little cart was about to stick fast in it: Fabrice pushed at the wheel. His horse fell twice; soon the path, less full of water, was no more than a track amid the grass. Fabrice had not gone five hundred paces when his nag stopped short: it was a corpse, laid across the path, which horrified both horse and rider.

Fabrice's face, very pale naturally, took on a pronounced greenish tint: the cantinière, after looking at the dead man, said, as if speaking to herself:

--That is not of our division. Then, raising her eyes to our hero, she burst out laughing.

--Ah! ah! my little one! she cried, there is some fine fare!

Fabrice remained frozen. What struck him above all was the filthiness of the feet of this corpse, which was already stripped of its shoes, and to which only a poor pair of trousers, all soiled with blood, had been left.

--Come here, said the cantinière; get down from your horse; you must accustom yourself to it; see, she cried, he got it through the head.

A ball, entering beside the nose, had come out through the opposite temple, and disfigured this corpse in a hideous fashion; it had remained with one eye open.

--Get down from your horse, little one, said the cantinière, and give him a handshake to see if he returns it.

Without hesitating, though ready to give up his soul from disgust, Fabrice threw himself from his horse and took the corpse's hand, which he shook firmly; then he remained as if annihilated; he felt that he had not the strength to remount his horse. What horrified him above all was that open eye.

"The vivandière will think me a coward," he said to himself with bitterness; but he felt the impossibility of making a movement: he would have fallen. This moment was awful; Fabrice was on the point of fainting altogether. The vivandière perceived it, lightly jumped down from her little cart, and offered him, without a word, a glass of brandy which he swallowed at a draught; he was able to remount his nag, and continued the road without saying a word. The vivandière looked at him from time to time out of the corner of her eye.

--You will fight tomorrow, my little one, she said to him at last, today you will stay with me. You see well that you must learn the soldier's trade.

--On the contrary, I wish to fight at once, cried our hero in a somber air, which seemed of good omen to the vivandière. The noise of the cannon redoubled and seemed to draw near. The shots were beginning to form as a sort of continuous bass; one shot was separated from the neighboring shot by no interval, and upon this continuous bass, which recalled the noise of a distant torrent, one distinguished very well the platoon fires.

At this moment the road sank amid a clump of woods; the vivandière saw three or four of our soldiers who were coming toward her running at full speed; she lightly jumped down from her cart and ran to hide fifteen or twenty paces from the road. She crouched in a hole that had been left where a great tree had just been uprooted. "So," said Fabrice to himself, "I am going to see if I am a coward!" He stopped near the little cart abandoned by the cantinière and drew his sabre. The soldiers paid no attention to him and passed running along the wood, to the left of the road.

--Those are ours, said quietly the vivandière, returning quite out of breath toward her little cart... If your horse were capable of galloping, I would say to you: push forward to the end of the wood, see if there is anyone in the plain. Fabrice did not need to be told twice, he tore a branch from a poplar, stripped it of its leaves and began to beat his horse with all his might; the nag broke into a gallop for an instant then returned to its accustomed little trot. The vivandière had put her horse to a gallop:

--Stop, stop! she cried to Fabrice.

Soon both were out of the wood; on arriving at the edge of the plain, they heard a frightful uproar, the cannon and the musketry thundered on all sides, to the right, to the left, behind. And as the clump of woods from which they issued occupied a hillock raised eight or ten feet above the plain, they made out fairly well a corner of the battle; but at last there was no one in the meadow beyond the wood. This meadow was bordered, at a thousand paces' distance, by a long row of willows, very thick; above the willows appeared a white smoke which sometimes rose into the sky spinning.

--If I only knew where the regiment is! said the cantinière, embarrassed. One must not cross this great meadow straight through. By the way, you, she said to Fabrice, if you see an enemy soldier, prick him with the point of your sabre, do not amuse yourself sabring him.

At this moment, the cantinière caught sight of the four soldiers of whom we have just spoken, they were emerging from the wood into the plain to the left of the road. One of them was on horseback.

--There is your affair, she said to Fabrice. Hola! ho! she cried to the one who was on horseback, come here and drink a glass of brandy; the soldiers drew near.

--Where is the 6th light? she cried.

--Yonder, five minutes from here, ahead of that canal which is along the willows; only that Colonel Macon has just been killed.

--Will you take five francs for your horse, you?

--Five francs! you are not joking badly, little mother, an officer's horse that I am going to sell for five napoleons within a quarter of an hour.

--Give me one of your napoleons, said the vivandière to Fabrice.

Then, approaching the soldier on horseback:

--Get down quickly, she said to him, there is your napoleon.

The soldier got down, Fabrice gaily sprang into the saddle, the vivandière was untying the little portmanteau which was on the nag.

--Help me then, you others! said she to the soldiers, is that how you let a lady work!

But hardly had the captured horse felt the portmanteau, than it began to rear, and Fabrice, who rode very well, needed all his strength to hold it.

--Good sign! said the vivandière, the gentleman is not accustomed to the tickling of the portmanteau.

--A general's horse, cried the soldier who had sold it, a horse worth ten napoleons as a farthing!

--There are twenty francs, said Fabrice to him, who felt beside himself with joy at finding between his legs a horse that had some go.

At this moment, a cannonball struck the line of willows, which it took obliquely, and Fabrice had the curious spectacle of all those little branches flying this way and that like mown by a scythe stroke.

--See, there is the brute advancing, said the soldier, taking his twenty francs.

It might have been two o'clock.

Fabrice was still in the enchantment of this curious spectacle, when a troop of generals, followed by some twenty hussars, crossed at a gallop one of the angles of the vast prairie at the edge of which he was stopped: his horse neighed, reared two or three times in succession, then gave violent head blows against the bridle that held it. "Well, so be it!" said Fabrice to himself.

The horse, left to itself, set off at full speed and went to rejoin the escort that followed the generals. Fabrice counted four bordered hats. A quarter of an hour later, by some words spoken by a hussar his neighbor, Fabrice understood that one of these generals was the celebrated Marshal Ney. His happiness was at its height; nevertheless he could not guess which of the four generals was Marshal Ney; he would have given the whole world to know it, but he recalled that he must not speak. The escort stopped to cross a wide ditch filled with water by the previous day's rain; it was bordered by great trees and terminated on the left the prairie at the entrance of which Fabrice had bought the horse. Almost all the hussars had dismounted; the edge of the ditch was sheer and very slippery, and the water was found well three or four feet below the level of the prairie. Fabrice, distracted by his joy, thought more of Marshal Ney and of glory than of his horse, which being much excited, jumped into the canal; which made the water splash to a considerable height. One of the generals was entirely wetted by the sheet of water, and cried out swearing:

--The devil take the f... beast!

Fabrice felt profoundly wounded by this insult. "May I demand satisfaction?" said he to himself. Meanwhile, to prove that he was not so awkward, he undertook to make his horse climb the opposite bank of the ditch; but it was sheer and five or six feet high. He had to give it up; then he went up the current, his horse having water up to its head, and at last found a sort of watering-place; by this gentle slope he easily gained the field on the other side of the canal. He was the first man of the escort to appear there, he began to trot proudly along the edge: at the bottom of the canal the hussars were struggling, rather embarrassed by their position; for in many places the water was five feet deep. Two or three horses took fright and wanted to swim, which made a frightful splashing. A sergeant perceived the maneuver just executed by this greenhorn, who had so little military air.

--Remount! there is a watering-place to the left! he cried, and little by little all passed.

On arriving on the other bank, Fabrice had found the generals all alone; the noise of the cannon seemed to him to redouble; it was scarcely if he heard the general, so thoroughly wetted by him, who cried in his ear:

--Where did you get that horse?

Fabrice was so troubled that he answered in Italian:

--L'ho comprato poco fa. (I just bought it this instant.)

--What do you say? cried the general to him.

But the uproar became so great at this moment, that Fabrice could not answer him. We shall avow that our hero was far from heroic at this moment. Nevertheless fear came to him only in second place; he was above all scandalized by this noise which hurt his ears. The escort broke into a gallop; they were crossing a large piece of ploughed land, situated beyond the canal, and this field was strewn with corpses.

--The redcoats! the redcoats! cried with joy the hussars of the escort.

And at first Fabrice did not understand; at last he noticed that indeed almost all the corpses were clad in red. A circumstance gave him a shiver of horror; he noticed that many of these unhappy redcoats were still living, they were evidently crying out to ask for help, and no one stopped to give them any. Our hero, very humane, gave himself all possible trouble so that his horse should not set its feet on any redcoat. The escort stopped; Fabrice, who paid not enough attention to his duty as a soldier, was still galloping looking at an unhappy wounded man.

--Will you stop, greenhorn! cried the sergeant to him. Fabrice perceived that he was twenty paces to the right ahead of the generals, and precisely on the side where they were looking with their spyglasses. On coming back to range himself at the tail of the other hussars remained a few paces behind, he saw the stoutest of these generals who was speaking to his neighbor, also a general, with an air of authority and almost of reprimand; he was swearing. Fabrice could not restrain his curiosity; and, despite the advice not to speak, given him by his friend the jailer, he arranged a little phrase, very French, very correct, and said to his neighbor:

--Who is that general scolding his neighbor?

--Why, it is the marshal!

--What marshal?

--Marshal Ney, blockhead! Ah there! where have you served until now?

Fabrice, though very touchy, thought not at all of growing angry at the insult; he contemplated, lost in a childlike admiration, this famous prince of the Moskova, the bravest of the brave.

Suddenly they set off at full gallop. A few instants after, Fabrice saw, twenty paces ahead, a ploughed field which was being stirred in a singular fashion. The bottom of the furrows was full of water, and the very damp earth, which formed the crest of these furrows, flew in small black fragments flung three or four feet high. Fabrice noticed in passing this singular effect; then his thought returned to musing on the glory of the marshal. He heard a dry cry near him: they were two hussars who fell struck by cannonballs; and, when he looked at them, they were already twenty paces from the escort. What seemed horrible to him, was a horse all bloody which was struggling on the ploughed land, entangling its feet in its own entrails; it wanted to follow the others: the blood flowed in the mud.

"Ah! here I am then at last in the fire! I have seen the fire!" he repeated to himself with satisfaction. "I am a true military man." At this moment, the escort was going at full speed, and our hero understood that it was cannonballs which made the earth fly on all sides. He looked in vain toward the side from which the balls came, he saw the white smoke of the battery at an enormous distance, and, amid the equal and continuous rumbling produced by the cannon shots, it seemed to him he heard discharges much nearer; he understood nothing of it at all.

At this moment, the generals and the escort descended into a little path full of water, which was five feet below the level.

The marshal stopped, and looked again with his spyglass. Fabrice, this time, could see him at his ease; he found him very blond, with a big red head. "We have not faces like that in Italy," said he to himself. "Never, I who am so pale and have chestnut hair, shall I be like that," he added with sadness. For him these words meant: "Never shall I be a hero." He looked at the hussars; with the exception of one alone, all had yellow moustaches. If Fabrice looked at the hussars of the escort, all looked at him also. This look made him blush, and, to end his embarrassment, he turned his head toward the enemy. They were very extended lines of red men; but, what astonished him greatly, these men seemed to him quite small. Their long files, which were regiments or divisions, did not seem to him higher than hedges. A line of red cavalry trotted to draw near the sunken path which the marshal and the escort had begun to follow at a walk, floundering in the mud. The smoke prevented anything from being distinguished on the side toward which one advanced; one sometimes saw men at a gallop detach themselves upon this white smoke.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”