Nana by Émile Zola (top 100 novels of all time .txt) 📕

the ground, watched, fired and then glided into a ditch a trifle

farther back to reload his gun; and his movements were so droll, so

tricky and so supple, that they smiled as they looked at him. He

must have perceived the head of a Prussian, for he arose quickly and

brought his weapon to his shoulder, but before he could fire he

uttered a cry, fell and rolled into the ditch, where for an instant

his legs twitched convulsively like the claws of a chicken just

killed. The little soldier had received a ball full in the breast.

He was the first man slain. Instinctively Francoise seized

Dominique’s hand and clasped it with a nervous contraction.

 

“Move away,” said the captain. “You are within range of the balls.”

 

At that moment a sharp little thud was heard in the old elm, and a

fragment of a branch came whirling down. But the two young folks

did not stir; they were nailed to the spot by anxiety to see what

was going on. On the edge of the wood a Prussian had suddenly come

out from behind a tree as from a theater stage entrance, beating the

air with his hands and falling backward. Nothing further moved; the

two corpses seemed asleep in the broad sunlight; not a living soul

was seen in the scorching country. Even the crack of the fusillade

had ceased. The Morelle alone whispered in its clear tones.

 

Pere Merlier looked at the captain with an air of surprise, as if to

ask him if the struggle was over.

 

“They are getting ready for something worse,” muttered the officer.

“Don’t trust appearances. Move away from there.”

 

He had not finished speaking when there was a terrible discharge of

musketry. The great elm was riddled, and a host of leaves shot into

the air. The Prussians had happily fired too high. Dominique

dragged, almost carried, Francoise away, while Pere Merlier followed

them, shouting:

 

“Go down into the cellar; the walls are solid!”

 

But they did not heed him; they entered the huge hall where ten

soldiers were waiting in silence, watching through the chinks in the

closed window shutters. The captain was alone in the courtyard,

crouching behind the little wall, while the furious discharges

continued. Without, the soldiers he had posted gave ground only

foot by foot. However, they re-entered one by one, crawling, when

the enemy had dislodged them from their hiding places. Their orders

were to gain time and not show themselves, that the Prussians might

remain in ignorance as to what force was before them. Another hour

went by. As a sergeant arrived, saying that but two or three more

men remained without, the captain glanced at his watch, muttering:

 

“Half-past two o’clock. We must hold the position four hours

longer.”

 

He caused the great gate of the courtyard to be closed, and every

preparation was made for an energetic resistance. As the Prussians

were on the opposite side of the Morelle, an immediate assault was

not to be feared. There was a bridge two kilometers away, but they

evidently were not aware of its existence, and it was hardly likely

that they would attempt to ford the river. The officer, therefore,

simply ordered the highway to be watched. Every effort would be

made in the direction of the country.

 

Again the fusillade had ceased. The mill seemed dead beneath the

glowing sun. Not a shutter was open; no sound came from the

interior. At length, little by little, the Prussians showed

themselves at the edge of the forest of Gagny. They stretched their

necks and grew bold. In the mill several soldiers had already

raised their guns to their shoulders, but the captain cried:

 

“No, no; wait. Let them come nearer.”

 

They were exceedingly prudent, gazing at the mill with a suspicious

air. The silent and somber old structure with its curtains of ivy

filled them with uneasiness. Nevertheless, they advanced. When

fifty of them were in the opposite meadow the officer uttered the

single word:

 

“Fire!”

 

A crash was heard; isolated shots followed. Francoise, all of a

tremble, had mechanically put her hands to her ears. Dominique,

behind the soldiers, looked on; when the smoke had somewhat lifted

he saw three Prussians stretched upon their backs in the center of

the meadow. The others had thrown themselves behind the willows and

poplars. Then the siege began.

 

For more than an hour the mill was riddled with balls. They dashed

against the old walls like hail. When they struck the stones they

were heard to flatten and fall into the water. They buried

themselves in the wood with a hollow sound. Occasionally a sharp

crack announced that the mill wheel had been hit. The soldiers in

the interior were careful of their shots; they fired only when they

could take aim. From time to time the captain consulted his watch.

As a ball broke a shutter and plowed into the ceiling he said to

himself:

 

“Four o’clock. We shall never be able to hold out!”

 

Little by little the terrible fusillade weakened the old mill. A

shutter fell into the water, pierced like a bit of lace, and it was

necessary to replace it with a mattress. Pere Merlier constantly

exposed himself to ascertain the extent of the damage done to his

poor wheel, the cracking of which made his heart ache. All would be

over with it this time; never could he repair it. Dominique had

implored Francoise to withdraw, but she refused to leave him; she

was seated behind a huge oaken clothespress, which protected her. A

ball, however, struck the clothespress, the sides of which gave

forth a hollow sound. Then Dominique placed himself in front of

Francoise. He had not yet fired a shot; he held his gun in his hand

but was unable to approach the windows, which were altogether

occupied by the soldiers. At each discharge the floor shook.

 

“Attention! Attention!” suddenly cried the captain.

 

He had just seen a great dark mass emerge from the wood.

Immediately a formidable platoon fire opened. It was like a

waterspout passing over the mill. Another shutter was shattered,

and through the gaping opening of the window the balls entered. Two

soldiers rolled upon the floor. One of them lay like a stone; they

pushed the body against the wall because it was in the way. The

other twisted in agony, begging his comrades to finish him, but they

paid no attention to him. The balls entered in a constant stream;

each man took care of himself and strove to find a loophole through

which to return the fire. A third soldier was hit; he uttered not a

word; he fell on the edge of a table, with eyes fixed and haggard.

Opposite these dead men Francoise, stricken with horror, had

mechanically pushed away her chair to sit on the floor against the

wall; she thought she would take up less room there and not be in so

much danger. Meanwhile the soldiers had collected all the

mattresses of the household and partially stopped up the windows

with them. The hall was filled with wrecks, with broken weapons and

demolished furniture.

 

“Five o’clock,” said the captain. “Keep up your courige! They are

about to try to cross the river!”

 

At that moment Francoise uttered a cry. A ball which had ricocheted

had grazed her forehead. Several drops of blood appeared.

Dominique stared at her; then, approaching the window, he fired his

first shot. Once started, he did not stop. He loaded and fired

without heeding what was passing around him, but from time to time

he glanced at Francoise. He was very deliberate and aimed with

care. The Prussians, keeping beside the poplars, attempted the

passage of the Morelle, as the captain had predicted, but as soon as

a man strove to cross he fell, shot in the head by Dominique. The

captain, who had his eyes on the young man, was amazed. He

complimented him, saying that he should be glad to have many such

skillful marksmen. Dominique did not hear him. A ball cut his

shoulder; another wounded his arm, but he continued to fire.

 

There were two more dead men. The mangled mattresses no longer

stopped the windows. The last discharge seemed as if it would have

carried away the mill. The position had ceased to be tenable.

Nevertheless, the captain said firmly:

 

“Hold your ground for half an hour more!”

 

Now he counted the minutes. He had promised his chiefs to hold the

enemy in check there until evening, and he would not give an inch

before the hour he had fixed on for the retreat. He preserved his

amiable air and smiled upon Francoise to reassure her. He had

picked up the gun of a dead soldier and himself was firing.

 

Only four soldiers remained in the hall. The Prussians appeared in

a body on the other side of the Morelle, and it was clear that they

intended speedily to cross the river. A few minutes more elapsed.

The stubborn captain would not order the retreat. Just then a

sergeant hastened to him and said:

 

“They are upon the highway; they will take us in the rear!”

 

The Prussians must have found the bridge. The captain pulled out

his watch and looked at it.

 

“Five minutes longer,” he said. “They cannot get here before that

time!”

 

Then at six o’clock exactly he at last consented to lead his men out

through a little door which opened into a lane. From there they

threw themselves into a ditch; they gained the forest of Sauval.

Before taking his departure the captain bowed very politely to Pere

Merlier and made his excuses, adding:

 

“Amuse them! We will return!”

 

Dominique was now alone in the hall. He was still firing, hearing

nothing, understanding nothing. He felt only the need of defending

Francoise. He had not the least suspicion in the world that the

soldiers had retreated. He aimed and killed his man at every shot.

Suddenly there was a loud noise. The Prussians had entered the

courtyard from behind. Dominique fired a last; shot, and they fell

upon him while his gun was yet smoking.

 

Four men held him. Others vociferated around him in a frightful

language. They were ready to slaughter him on the spot. Francoise,

with a supplicating look, had cast herself before him. But an

officer entered and ordered the prisoner to be delivered up to him.

After exchanging a few words in German with the soldiers he turned

toward Dominique and said to him roughly in very good French:

 

“You will be shot in two hours!”