I did not get the message that the commandant wished to see me until about three o'clock in the afternoon of the next day. All the morning I had enough to do to prevent Giulia from breaking down; her eyes showed that she had spent a restless night, a night of tears, but as the morning wore on she almost forgot her anxiety in my cheering words and more than cheering kisses. When a sergeant told me that I was wanted at the officers' quarters Giulia broke down completely. I kissed her once more, bade her be of good courage, and gave her over to the sergeant's wife, whose kindness and tender sympathy were of inestimable value to us both. The sergeant's wife was a good woman and deserved a better fate than that which was her lot afterwards; but then, what will you?It is only the good who suffer in this world; the bad are always to be found at the top of the wheel.
Well, the commandant received me as I have already told, and after a kind admonition—how kind these officers that men fear so much can be when they like!—sent me away. I saluted, turned, walked a pace or two, and then set off running at the top of my speed to the canteen. I burst in the door, ran up the stairs, taking three steps at a time, and bounded with a loud cry of joy into the room where Giulia was weeping. I could say nothing, nothing intelligible at all events, but Giulia understood. So did the sergeant's wife, for she discreetly went away and left us to ourselves and our happiness.
Things went on badly for the Hessian. He was always an ill-liked comrade, but this last affair was too bad indeed. All sympathised with Giulia and myself, and the sympathy was not merely on account of the chance a man had of getting tobacco and a glass of spirits when his pockets were empty. Oh no; the legionaries were glad that they could get a little credit, but then they always paid—that is, all paid except the poor devils whose money was stopped for some reason or other—and they were pleased with the canteen, pleased with Giulia, who had been born in the battalion, and I think they were not discontented on account of my position, for was not I a legionary like themselves? So the Hessian was not spoken to, or only spoken to to be cursed; if he replied he was beaten; if he complained, there were plenty to prove that he was a bad comrade and that it was impossible to soldier with him, and, unfortunately for himself, he had been known as an unsociable fellow for a long time. The end was that he volunteered for Tonquin, where there were some of ours still, and his captain was by no means sorry to be rid of him, for one can never know what may occur when a man is deservedlyunpopular in the Legion and has not grace or tact enough to get back to favour with his comrades.
As for Giulia and me, life was idyllic. We did not mind the laughing jests of our comrades; they never went too far. There was a leaven of the gentleman in the battalion, and this leaven leavened all the mass. Then the really bad ones were afraid; the example of the Hessian was too fresh in their minds. But, indeed, all were kind and agreeable. That Giulia and I should be lovers had been obvious to all others long before we ourselves thought of being such to one another, and when the legionaries noticed that she lived for me alone, just as all my thoughts were alone hers, they kept their coarse jokes to themselves and were as polite to us as if we were far higher than they in social position. Some of the songs were not of a moral kind, but as the evening concert always took place outside the canteen Giulia was not supposed to hear, and, indeed, when she did hear she did not always understand. When she did comprehend she said nothing; one cannot be acantinièrein the Legion and a prude.
At this time Giulia and I were always together. Certainly while the canteen was open I was outside the counter, often making one of a party of sergeants who came to drink in comrade-like fashion with one another; at other times merely going around to see that there was no disorder—well, no more disorder and abandonment than are reasonable in a canteen where belts are off and tongues wag freely. I very seldom had any trouble, most of the legionaries kept within bounds, and those who felt disposed to give a loose rein to the desire of ardent spirits were prevented from doing so by a constant lack of money. Sometimes, however, when some Russian or Prussian or Austrian had received money from Europe there was a little danger of a free fight, and I, who had been in the encounter at Three Fountains, did not like these things.I had told Giulia about that trouble and she was just as concerned as I, but she was concerned for my safety and my rank, while I was anxious about her shop and herself. Any man can start a row—oh, it is quite easy, I assure you—but it is not every man that can stop one. Besides, I remembered how the huts were torn down at Three Fountains and the Russian's advice to the old soldier sutler: "Take your goods and madame away." The advice about madame seemed especially applicable to Giulia, and yet I knew she would stay by me, and it was my duty to stay by the canteen.
One day the English corporal whom I have mentioned came to the canteen and asked Giulia to take care of some money for him. Giulia refused point-blank, but said that he might speak to me. When I learned what he wished me to do I at once saw the reasonableness of the request, inasmuch as no man would like to keep so large a sum of money as the corporal had in his own possession in a hut. The Englishman had just received from home a Bank of England note for £100, and many a simple soldier would kill him for such a sum. But, one may object, how negociate such a billet in such a place? Oh, no one could do that except the owner, or someone like Giulia, who would change it for him in the regular way of business; but many a man was nearing the end of his five years' service, and a Bank of England note could be easily hidden for a time and in the end changed in Paris. One hundred pounds!—twenty-five hundred francs!—why, it was a fortune.
I said that I would take the note and give him a receipt for it, and that, as he drew money from Mademoiselle Julie, he could give receipts until the full amount was withdrawn. He thanked me, gave me the note, took a receipt, and immediately applied to Giulia in my presence for a hundred francs. She gave him the money at my request and he gave me an acknowledgment. That evening his squad was merry; he hadgiven them fifty francs to spend, the other fifty he spent with his brother corporals.
On the following day he asked me about the stock in the canteen. I told him that there was not at the time enough to justify him in giving a spree to a section, but that in less than a week he could stand treat to the battalion if he liked.
"Oh no; not the battalion, only the company."
"I understand," said I; "I know that you cannot go outside your own company, but I spoke of the battalion merely to show you Mademoiselle Julie's resources."
"I see," the corporal replied; "well, tell me when you are ready, and my comrades shall enjoy an evening's carouse."
Let me now tell about the money. Of course, it was Giulia's, not mine, and she kept it in her money box, which was snugly hidden in her own room in a place that no one knew of except ourselves. Even the sergeant's wife did not know it. She never entered Giulia's room except on invitation. Giulia herself kept the place as it ought to be, sweeping it, dusting the furniture, and having everything as neat and clean as it could be in a palace. Once a week she gave me the key. I went there with a couple of privates—of course, she then took the box away—the legionaries with me removed everything to another place and washed out the room and left it with windows and door open for a couple of hours. They then returned, replaced the furniture, got a couple of drinks, a couple of cigars and a franc, and went away satisfied. But this is mere domestic economy.
Giulia also kept the receipt for the hundred francs. But, one will say, why not transact the business without troubling me? Well, the amount was so large and the money was so strange that she wished me to settle everything for her, as I was, in her opinion, the one man in the world who knew everything and was always right. Again, she knew how much I prized her trust, and so was glad to pay me a delicate compliment.Moreover, we were so closely united to each other now that it would seem to so gentle and confiding, yet high-spirited a girl as she was a breach of faith for her to engage in such a transaction without my knowledge and consent. Yet when I asked Giulia why she had not taken the money from the corporal at once, she only answered: "I don't know; but I would not." Then she kissed me, and said: "I will never take anything, unless you know about it and are satisfied."
What a sum of happiness the events, even the very words, of our lives made at this time! Ah, well! the sum was soon to be added up, and the total not exceeded, for ever.
About five days after my last conversation with the English corporal the new stock arrived. It had cost altogether about two thousand francs, and we—that is, Guilia and I—were sure to make at least five or six hundred francs profit. When we ordered the stuff we expected that it would last for some time, but now, knowing the corporal's resources and intention, we settled that it would all be sold within a week. We were not disappointed; in fact, the day after it arrived we had to send an order for a similar quantity to our agent at Oran.
"I see that the new goods have arrived," said the Englishman to me as I met him on the parade-ground.
"Yes," I replied. "I have been looking for you. If you tell me now how much you want I can get it, and you can write out the receipt."
"Thanks, my sergeant-major; but you are a man of experience in these things. You were at Three Fountains; is it not so?"
"Yes," I answered, laughing.
"Then will you tell me how much I ought to have for the entertainment of my company?"
"Oh, five hundred francs will do well, but seven or eight hundred will really be a generous amount to spend."
"Let me be very generous then; get me a thousand."
"Very well; but remember there will be change left. Let your squad understand that they will have the spending of that, so shall you have sentries guarding your sleep."
"You are right, my sergeant-major, you are right; I am obliged to you for the hint. Will not Mademoiselle Julie give us a glass of wine, so that we may clink our glasses together?"
"Oh, certainly. Nobody amongst the officers troubles about the canteen. One can generally get a glass ofeau-de-vieorvin ordinaireat any reasonable hour. The commandant knows that no man is given more than he can safely bear, and what is the use of being strict in such a place as this?"
The corporal knew this. If a man wanted a drink at any hour when the canteen was supposed to be shut, he could speak to me and I could get it for him. He did not, however, enter the canteen; he had to take it, and that quickly, at a window at the back. As a rule, men only wanted a glass of brandy in the morning—about half-a-dozen at most; these were the men who had had too much drink the evening before and who possessed or borrowed the necessary coppers in the morning.
As the English corporal and I took our drinks together at the little window, I told him the true story of Three Fountains. Giulia listened with interest, though she had heard all about it before. Once I asked her to refill the glasses. She said: "Do not continue until I return; I wish to hear it all again." Of course, I waited for her return and then proceeded with my tale. When I had finished, I said that I hoped there would not be any such work here.
"Oh no," replied the corporal; "not if I can help it."
"You must not make them drunk," said Giulia.
"No, no, Madame Julie; I give you my word of honour."
It was the first time that she had been addressed as madame. She blushed a rosy red, turned her head aside for a moment, and gave me one swift glance of——Oh, I knew well what it meant and how it pleased me, but I will say no more. The corporal was a gentleman and went away at once. He finished his drink, raised his kepi, and said adieu.
There was a good deal of boisterous mirth that evening at the canteen and around it. A couple of men did strike each other, but before any serious damage was done, I had both under guard and on the road to the guard-room. The rest took the hint; they saw that fighting meant loss of the drink and fun of the evening, and a night in the guard-room and punishment in the morning. A few men who were evidently overcome, or nearly so, by the effects of the liquor were carried away to bed by their comrades, and, taken all in all, the evening passed away satisfactorily. Next morning, however, nearly a hundred men turned up foreau-de-vie, and all had money. The corporal had been judiciously generous; everyone was pleased.
The Englishman gave one more spree, three nights after, to his company, but this second one did not cost him more than four hundred francs. Then he spent two hundred francs one evening with his section; what was left was kept for his squad. In acting as he did he followed the custom of the Legion, but I have already said enough about that.
As he was drawing the last fifty francs I said to him in Giulia's presence.
"Monsieur le caporal, you have spent your money as it should be spent, but it may be a long time until you are rich again. Do not hesitate if you want a litre of wine or some brandy or tobacco and have no money. There has been a great profit in a short time; whenever you feel inclined come and have your share of it."
"Yes," said Giulia; "you will be always welcome, whether your pockets are full or empty."
"I thank you both," the Englishman replied, "and I like and respect you too much not to take advantage now and then of your generous offer."
"Come as often as you like," I said; "you will always find a welcome, and that not merely on account of the profit."
"Yes," said Giulia; "that is true."
"I will come," the corporal answered, "but not very often; such a welcome is too good to be worn out." He lifted his kepi to Giulia, bowed, and went away.
He did not come very often without money, only now and then, as he had said, but, you see, he was very proud.
CHAPTER XIX
Soonafterwards some important changes took place in the battalion. We were ordered to prepare a draft of four hundred officers and men for the East, and in lieu of these we received a corresponding number of recruits and veterans sent home. The changes in the officers were many, for, in addition to those who went as a matter of course with the draft, others volunteered for foreign service and were accepted. As far as I was concerned, the officer most to be regretted was the adjutant. The man who went was always kind and had ever a pleasant word for Giulia and for me; the one who replaced him was destined to be our greatest enemy. We could not guess this at the time, and naturally thought that all things would go on as usual, but it was not long before we were cruelly undeceived.
The new adjutant was a stout, thick-set man of about thirty-five years. He had seen a good deal of service both in Algeria and Tonquin, and was undoubtedly a very smart soldier and a most capable man for performing the duties of his rank. That is all one can say in his favour. He was harsh, even tyrannical; he never spared a man's feelings, and his tongue could cut like a whip-lash. All the legionaries, from sergeant-major down to simple soldier, feared and hated him; before he had been in the battalion a fortnight we, who had been the most joyous and careless fellows on earth, every man pleased with himself and with his comrades, became the most sullen and dogged lot in the world. There was just as much drinking as ever, but the singing, thecamaraderie, the easy give-and-take feelingthat used to prevail, were all gone. Moreover, the men drank more brandy and less wine, and, as I pointed this out to Giulia, I said:
"Carissima, there will be bad work soon; somebody's blood will flow, and then there will be an execution."
She shuddered as she replied: "How I wish that that bad man were sent away! Before he came we were all happy, now I, even I, am gloomy and troubled; I am oppressed by some foreboding that I cannot understand."
I could enter into her feelings, for I too had anxious thoughts, not for Giulia or myself, indeed, but for the other legionaries. I felt that an outbreak of some kind would occur, but the chief trouble was to persuade myself that it would be merely a rash act on the part of one man, who would free all from tyranny and take the punishment by himself, but as the days wore on I, who knew the Legion by heart, could see that there was a far greater chance of a number of men being concerned in theémeute. One thing delayed action, the newcomers and the rest had not sufficiently fraternised—four hundred strangers are too many for any battalion to assimilate quickly.
One morning half-a-dozen men were having a nip of brandy each at a little window at the back of the canteen; I was standing a little apart, and Giulia was passing out the glasses. Suddenly the new adjutant came round the corner and sternly asked the meaning of giving out drink at such an hour. Nobody could reply. We all knew that the commandant winked at the business, we all knew too that the canteen should not be open at that time, but then no harm had ever come of it, no man ever got more that onepetite verre, and surely that would rather help a man than hurt him if he wanted it. But how could I, the one chiefly addressed, say all that? Oh no; I had to be silent and take my abuse as best I could, and truly the adjutant was abusive. He was still speaking like a brute whenGiulia, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, broke in, and said:
"The sergeant-major has nothing to do with it, it is I alone who am to blame."
The adjutant saluted her politely and replied that he understood that I was in military charge of the canteen, but, even had I nothing to do with it, I was acting in a most disgraceful fashion when I allowed these pigs to get drunk so early in the morning.
"The soldiers are not pigs," answered Giulia, "and they are not drunk; no man ever gets more than apetite verreat this hour."
"Then it is usual to supply drink so soon," the scoundrel said; "ah! the commandant must hear of this."
Then he took my belt and bayonet and sent me to my own room, to remain there under arrest; as for the others, he merely wrote down their names and ordered them away. When they had gone—it was long afterwards that I learnt this—he tried to begin a conversation with Giulia, but he had scarcely uttered an endearing word when she put down the window and walked away. She was right, and the scoundrel was wrong, but he made her and me suffer for it.
Just as I was expecting my morning coffee, I heard a tap at the door, and cried "Come in." Giulia entered carrying a tray with coffee and rolls and butter. I took the tray from her and put it on the floor. There was no table, of course; in a bachelor sergeant's room nothing, indeed, but the camp-bed and a shelf or two for my equipments. Then I kissed her, and said:
"You spoke bravely this morning; I am glad of it I should like to say what you said, but they would punish me."
"Are you pleased?" she asked.
"Yes, carissima mia; and all the battalion will be pleased when they hear about it."
"I do not care about the battalion if you are content."
"Yes, yes, ma belle; I am very content. Is he not a rascal?"
"Oh," said Giulia, "I hate him; all the trouble comes from him; somebody must kill him or we shall never again have peace."
"Somebody will kill him," I answered; "you may rest assured of that."
"But not you, not you," she cried; "promise me, not you."
"Certainly not," I replied; "why should I kill him when there are so many others who have more grievances than I? Moreover, I have no desire to be shot; I am too happy here with you to wish to leave you. Heaven for me is here."
She was satisfied with this, and insisted on my tasting the coffee.
"Is it nice?" she asked.
I smiled, and said that it was very nice.
"Does it taste well?"
"Oh yes; I never drank any coffee I liked so well."
The truth is, Giulia had put a glass ofeau-de-vieinto the coffee, and I felt that I wanted it after the scene in the morning. How kind, how thoughtful she was! I told her so over and over again before she left, and when she did go, she said with a pretty way of command that she had:
"Expect me in an hour, and do not lose your temper with anyone until I come back; there is trouble enough already."
I promised and she went away.
Giulia, as she had promised, came back in an hour. She brought me a little wine, for she knew that very soon I should be in front of the commandant, and a glass of wine does summon up one's courage. A glass of wine before an interview, a glass of brandy before a battle—that is sound sense. Very soon a couple ofsoldiers of my own rank came for me. I gave them the remainder of the liquor, and they were very pleased.
"I hope you won't get into serious trouble," said the Alsatian.
"Not at all," chimed in the Spaniard; "he'll get off, but there must be no more drinking out of hours."
"I will take care of that," said Giulia; "will you tell your companies?" They promised to do so, and we three went away, I in the centre without belt or bayonet, and Giulia followed, after locking the door of my room. When we came before the commandant one of the escort took off my kepi. The adjutant was present, looking as stiff and unimpressionable as a block of wood. When the accusation was read out I was asked if I had anything to say. I replied that I had not. The commandant considered and considered and considered. He walked up and down for a few moments, then stood still for a second or two, and resumed his walk. After about five minutes he said:
"You are young, you have the military medal; I do not like to punish you." Here the adjutant interposed and asked permission to make a statement. When this was granted, he raked up the whole story of the quarrel at Three Fountains, as if everyone did not know about it. He laid stress upon the fact that I had been one of the ringleaders in that affair, and ended by asking was such an one as I fit to look after a canteen. Then the commandant said:
"When you came first to the battalion there was a sergeant-major in every company, and I could not find a place for you. Most commandants would have made you simple sergeant of a section. Will you now consent to give up one chevron and become sergeant? If you do, I will say no more about this affair." I jumped at the offer, the more readily as nothing was said about taking me from the society of Giulia.
"Very well," said the commandant; "present yourself here to-morrow morning with only one chevron on your sleeve."
My kepi, belt and bayonet were returned to me. Having put them on, I saluted and walked away a free man again.
Giulia was waiting for me a short distance off. I told her all about the matter as we walked towards my quarters. When we arrived there I said:
"Get your scissors and cut off the chevron."
"No, no," she cried; "I will never cut it off."
"Then give me your scissors and I will do it."
But she would not give her scissors for that purpose. So I had to take off my tunic, and with the point of a little Spanish knife which I used for cutting tobacco—these Spanish knives are very handy little things, for one cannot always wear a bayonet, and one never knows how trouble may arise—I ripped the upper chevron from my sleeve. I laid it on my camp-bed. Giulia took it, kissed it, and put it in her bosom.
"I would not cut it off," she said, "but I will sew it on again, when the time comes." That time never came.
Giulia went away to see about some things in the canteen. In less than five minutes she was back again, looking as angry as a tigress at bay. When she grew a little composed, she told me that the sergeant who stayed with his wife in the room over the bar had been appointed to the charge of the place and that I was to be assigned to his section in No. 4 Company in the morning. This was most unpleasant news, but I comforted her by saying that it really made no difference, except that I could not now go to see her at the canteen except during the hours when it was open, but that I should do my best to see her as often as possible outside duty hours. "They cannot separate us anyway," I said; "you are all in all to me and I am all in all to you." So she relieved her sorrow by a good cry, and then sat, quite quiet, on my lap. Afterall, the great thing was that nobody could part us altogether.
Next morning things turned out as Giulia had said. I was posted for duty to the first section of No. 4 Company instead of the sergeant whose wife had given shelter and protection to Giulia after her mother's death, and he was assigned to look after the canteen. I very soon fell into the routine duties of a sergeant. The section was handed over to me in first-class order and temperament save for one thing—the soldiers were discontented with the tyranny of the adjutant. This did not affect me much, as they were more or less inclined to look upon me as a martyr, and my reduction in rank was a fresh source of ill-humour, showing, as it did, another proof of the mischievous malevolence of the adjutant. I took, or pretended to take, the matter easily. I did my duty as it should be done during what one may call business hours, but when the work of the day was over I was good comrade to all. It was lucky that I made so many friends at the time; I wanted them—every one—very soon.
While I was acting as sergeant, the adjutant made several attempts to get into the good graces of Giulia, but she repulsed him on every occasion. At last he asked her point-blank why she would not even acknowledge his salute, and she told him bluntly that she disliked him and that she wished him in Tonquin or in his grave—anywhere, so long as he was out of the battalion. Now Giulia was passionate even for an Italian, and as she spoke she raised her voice, unthinkingly, indeed, and some soldiers going with a corporal to relieve the sentries heard what she said as they passed by. The adjutant saw that they heard; he knew that he was hated by all, and he felt that in a couple of hours the whole battalion would be secretly enjoying his rebuff. With a curse he turned on his heel. Afterwards he neglected Giulia but paid morethan enough of attention to me. He cursed me openly on parade, he found fault with every man in my section, not a buckle was bright, not a strap was clean, the greatcoats were badly folded, the bayonets were dull and the rifles were foul. In short, every fault that a man can find was found by him, but, be it well understood, only in the absence of the captain and other officers of the company. When the adjutant had charge of the parade and the sergeants commanded the companies, then the men of my section knew that a bad quarter of an hour awaited them. The other legionaries noted this too. They were glad, because it was quite obvious now that the majority of the battalion might endure the adjutant's harshness patiently, for were not the men of No. 1 section of No. 4 Company the really aggrieved ones? It was tacitly understood in the battalion that the avenger would come from us.
All this time Giulia and I met every afternoon just before the opening of the canteen, and afterwards for ten minutes or so when the canteen was closed for the day. While the place was open I was always to be found there, unless I was on guard or had some duty to perform that kept me away. The other sergeants had easy lives. Every extra piece of work was passed on to me by the adjutant, and let me say here that the adjutant is the worst enemy a sub-officer can have. It's bad to be disliked by the commandant, because he will block promotion; the captain's enmity is hard to bear, because he can snarl three or four times a day; but the adjutant can play the very devil with a man in a thousand ways. Imagine asking a man who has made a slight mistake in making out the orders of the day:
"Can you read and write?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well," comes the reply before more than a hundred soldiers, "take care in future to read and write correctly. Go back to your place, you stupid pig."
And as the man departs he is suddenly ordered to halt and face right-about, and then asked:
"Who promoted you sergeant?" And before he has time to answer, the remark is made, loudly enough to be over all the parade:
"There is not a man in the camp less fitted to wear the gold chevron than you. To your place, rascal!"
If Giulia happened to be passing through the parade ground it was worse. The abuse I received—and remember there is no redress in the Legion unless one settles matters for himself with an unexpected bullet or bayonet-thrust, and then there will be an execution—the abuse, I say, that I received made my blood often almost boil with rage. I could not have endured it but for the sweet company of Giulia; with her in the evening I forgot the wrongs and insults of the day. Truly there is no solace for a troubled spirit like the society of the loving and beloved one; her sweet sympathy more than makes up for all.
The sergeant of No. 2 section of my Company was a German Pole, a good-humoured fellow, ready for any fun, except when the adjutant's eyes were fixed upon him, but withal a good soldier. His time was nearly up, and he meant to go to Paris, and there make a living somehow, when he should be at last done with the Foreign Legion. He and I were on very friendly terms, and, indeed, I was oftener with him than with any other sergeant of the corps. One evening—it was almost his last evening with us—he drank more than was good for him, and awoke in the morning with a headache and a sick stomach. I saw that he could not drink his morning coffee, and asked him if he would not like a glass ofeau-de-vie.
"Yes," he replied; "but one cannot get that now, this cursed adjutant has spoiled all."
"Never mind," I answered, "I will get it for you."
"Take care, my comrade, you will get into moretrouble, and are not things bad enough with you already?"
"So bad," I said, "that they cannot be worse." And I took my kepi and sallied forth. As luck would have it Giulia was sitting at the open window of her bedroom, and when I beckoned to her she came out on the cantonment square to meet me. I told her that a poor devil was ill and wanted some brandy.
"All right," she said, "I will get some and give it to you at your own quarters."
I returned, told the Pole that he should soon receive some medicine, and waited for Giulia at the door. Now either the adjutant must have observed all this, or some scoundrel must have told him about it, for just as I turned into the bachelor sergeants' quarters with the drink and Giulia went away again towards the canteen, the adjutant came running up at the top of his speed, crying out: "Halt, halt, sergeant; what have you got there?" I was forced to deliver up the little flask. He uncorked it, smelled, and said:
"Very well, very well, consider yourself a prisoner. Ah, Mademoiselle Giulia," he went on, "what excuse can your lover make now?"
"Go away, Giulia," I said.
"Silence; to your room, rascal!" roared the angry adjutant.
"Good-bye, my well-beloved," said Giulia. "Out of my way, pig" (this to the adjutant). And she walked across the square with the air and tread of an empress.
The adjutant gnashed his teeth and bit his moustache with rage; he hissed rather than said to me:
"You, rascal, shall pay for this, and this payment, understand well, is only the first; others are sure to come afterwards." I turned on my heel and entered my apartment.
The Pole was very sorry, and would, I believe, have told about his part in the affair, but I pointed out, asothers also did, that there was no use in his getting into trouble, as by so doing he could not help me in the least. Everyone saw quite plainly that I should certainly be reduced to the rank of corporal, if not lower, and all were, or professed to be, sorry for my misfortune. To cut the tale short, I may as well say at once that I got my choice of resigning my position as sergeant of a section and becoming a mere corporal of a squad or of going before a court-martial. Of course I resigned, for the offence of obtaining liquor at a wrong hour after the previous warning could not be overlooked, and, as likely as not, a court-martial might send me back to the ranks, a thing I had no desire for. The first time I passed the adjutant with the two red chevrons on my sleeve instead of the single gold one he smiled with an unholy joy, but the smile changed to a scowl as he saw the kiss of welcome that I received from Giulia at the door of the canteen.
It was well for all the other squads in the section that I was reduced. They were now treated not worse, certainly, than the rest of the legionaries, but my little squad of sixteen men had to bear the brunt of the adjutant's anger. I was very concerned at this, and told Giulia. She—clever and good girl—at once found out a means of in part compensating them, but she did not tell me, and she strictly warned them not to tell me either. They—poor devils—were only too glad to keep her counsel, and it was by a mere accident that I learned the truth afterwards. Her plan was this: She told the men of my squad that they could come to the canteen with or without money and that they need not be afraid of a refusal on her part to supply them, as far as they could reasonably expect, with drink and tobacco. Now a legionary will stand a good deal of abuse during the day if he knows that brandy and other comforts await him for nothing in the evening; and, moreover, it was evident to all that no one was especially aimed at exceptme, and that, when No. 7, let us say, of the squad was told that he was a dirty pig, he was merely getting the benefit of remarks that were really meant for me. When the adjutant had done abusing the men one by one he gathered, as it were, all the abuse together and hurled it at my head, and often those rough legionaries, smarting as they were under their own vexations, used to feel for me more than for themselves. I said to them one day after the devil had left the hut, where he had kicked about our equipments, swearing that we did not know the meaning of good order, that I would never report any man for anything: "No matter how bad we may be," I continued, "we are abused and sworn at. We are all punished for the evil we do and the evil that we don't even think of."
"I hope," said a simple soldier, a Sicilian, "that the devil will be dead soon."
He looked significantly at me, and then at the others, but, as I said nothing, the implied proposal went by the board. But we all began to think seriously from that day forth.
Many a stolen interview I had with Giulia when all in the cantonments were asleep. I could rarely see her now, for the adjutant found me plenty of work for my leisure time, and I took care to be in the hut every evening lest there should be a fight amongst the comrades of the squad. One must not imagine that they were bad comrades to one another. On the contrary, they were very good indeed, but when men are angry at being abused and sworn at without cause and without mercy they will easily quarrel among themselves. So I watched the squad carefully, and more than once stopped a dispute that might have suddenly led to a general fight, and very soon the simple soldiers saw that I was taking care of them for their sakes as well as for my own. At first they were inclined to resent this, but common-sense prevailed, and they acknowledged—tacitly only, of course—that I was in the right.
One night about twelve o'clock I was speaking to Giulia at the little window at the back of the canteen. We had been talking for half-an-hour of various matters and the time had passed quickly for both. I was about kissing her good-night when I heard a step behind me. In a second I was out of Giulia's arms and had faced about. Instinctively my hand sought my left side, where the bayonet was.
"Who is there?" said the well-known voice of the adjutant.
"Caporal Le Poer de la quatrième compagnie, monsieur," I replied.
"What are you doing here? Why are you not with your squad? Who is in charge at the hut?"
I said nothing, for I had nothing to say. I almost felt the chevrons take flight from my arm. I had sense enough, however, to take my hand from the hilt of the bayonet. Things were bad enough as they were.
The adjutant marched me to where a sentinel was on duty. He gave me in charge to this man and went to the guard-hut. Very soon a corporal and two men of the guard arrived, and I was taken to the prisoners' quarters, to rest as well as I could on a plank bed until morning. When I was brought before the commandant the charges were read out against me of having been absent without leave or necessity from the hut where my squad lay, of having left no one in charge while I was away, and of going to the canteen in the middle of the night. The commandant looked very serious, and, I daresay, so did I. What I had done was good to do, but bad to be charged with doing. Any other officer coming upon me as the adjutant had come would have passed on and not minded; even the commandant, I am sure, would pretend not to see. But when the charge was made and its truth admitted, then discipline compelled that proper notice should be taken of it. I was not sent before a court-martial. I was permittedto resign both chevrons, and so I went back to my company a simple soldier of the second class.
I said to Giulia as we talked that evening at the end of the counter in the canteen—the other legionaries, I must mention, were decent enough to keep out of earshot—that I should be very careful now, as I had no more chevrons to lose, and an ugly punishment was sure to follow the next charge. "But for you, carissima," I went on, "I should volunteer again for Tonquin." Giulia at this began to weep quietly, but I soon reassured her. I told her that I would never go anywhere willingly unless she came with me, and then she quickly dried her tears.
"You must take good care, Jean, of everything, and above all things, you must never allow yourself to lose your temper. Yes," she continued, "no matter what is said to you, no matter how hard it may be to bear, control yourself and all will be well. Come every evening, and I will comfort you for all the troubles and insults of the day."
I promised faithfully to follow her advice, and though oftentimes it was hard to keep my temper, yet the remembrance of my promise and the thought that every minute that passed brought the time of our next meeting nearer made me feel, if not supremely happy, at least well content to endure with outward equanimity the curses, epithets and abuse that were my daily lot. I had one other consoling thought, some day surely the devil would be struck down by an irritated man, and he would in all probability be taken away in the midst of his sins. That was the constant prayer of the legionaries of the battalion. May he die, and die soon, and may he go safely home to his father, who is in hell.
Now that I was as low as I could be in the Legion, the adjutant, sergeants and corporals led me a terrible life. There was no work too hard or too dirty for me; I did twice as much camp-cleaning as any other; my spare time was encroached upon; and I found myselfalmost every night a prisoner in the guard-house. The adjutant had the right of making me what one may call a prisoner at large for a week, and longer, at a time. All he had to do was to pretend to find fault with me for laziness, though I was an active soldier; for dirt, though I was a clean one; for carelessness, though I, for my own sake as well as for Giulia's, was the most careful soldier in the battalion. Then, when all the day's duties were over I could not go, as others went, to the canteen. I had to report myself at the guard-room and enter the prisoners' quarters, where I might stretch myself on the plank bed in the clothes which I had worn all the day, until the call went next morning to summon me to another dreary round of hard work and hurtful words. No one must wonder that the sergeants and corporals ill-treated me; the adjutant would have ill-treated them, if they had shown me any signs of favour or even of fair-play. Moreover, it's the way of the world to kick the man that's down, and human nature is the same in the Legion as elsewhere.
I should have become quite reckless but for the love and kindly sympathy of Giulia. With her I almost forgot my sorrows, and the firm assurance I had that nothing could lower me in her eyes, and that no man in all the world could steal her heart from me, was my great safeguard in the moments, and they were many, of temptation. The rest of the legionaries watched with interest the conduct of the adjutant; they felt that some time or other the crisis would arrive; it was agreed on all sides that I was the predestined avenger.
CHAPTER XX
ThoughI did my best to keep out of trouble, still I could not help now and then breaking the regulations. Other soldiers broke them far oftener than I, but I knew quite well that the sergeants and corporals were all watching me in order to bring me up before the commandant on some charge or other, and so curry favour with the dreaded adjutant. Now it would not be fair to blame them for this, every sub-officer naturally preferred that the simple soldier should get into trouble rather than himself; and, moreover, the man who could get me punishment was sure to be left alone by the tyrant of the battalion. I certainly felt a bit sore about it at times, and Giulia, to whom I communicated my suspicions, was very angry indeed.
The first serious affair in which I was involved, as a simple soldier, occurred one evening in the hut where my squad lay. I was not a prisoner at large at the time, and so had not to go to the guard-hut, report myself for the night, and then take up my quarters in the cells where the prisoners were kept under guard. As I sat on the edge of my bed-cot, smoking and thinking, an Austrian came in, evidently under the influence of drink. This man was as pleasant a companion as one could wish for when sober, but when drunk—he was not often so, I must confess—his disposition underwent a change; he became violent, abusive and quarrelsome. The first person he laid eyes on when he passed the door was myself, and towards me he accordingly staggered. I cannot recall what he said first, but I know that I was angry and returned a very sharp answer. He then began to curse and revile me, andI am afraid that my language in reply was as "frequent and painful and free" as his. The corporal of the squad came in as we were warming to our work and saw how matters were going. He left the hut at once, and, mean hound that he was, listened just outside the door. Very soon he returned, and, ordering some other soldiers to arrest us, marched us both to the guard hut, and left us there for the night in charge of the sergeant of the guard. In the morning the Austrian, who had slept off the effects of the drink, was very sorry. I told him that it was a pity he had not fallen out with someone else, as I was certain to get a heavy sentence.
"You know," I went on, "the corporal will put the affair in as bad a light as possible for me, because by doing so he will have the adjutant as his good friend; and, besides, I have been up before the commandant so often of late and have been reduced in rank so much that he will consider me a soldier of very bad character and will punish me as such. In any case you are a soldier of the first class, and at most he can only take away your chevron."
"That is true, my comrade; I am very sorry, that cursed brandy made a fool of me."
"Well, it can't be helped now," I said; "I bear no malice."
"Thanks, my friend, thanks," the Austrian replied; "but Mademoiselle Julie, she will never forgive me."
"So much the better," I told him; "then you will get no more brandy, and so will keep out of prison." He sighed heavily and said no more: I could see that he was really sorry at last.
At the usual hour all the prisoners made their appearance before the commandant. The Austrian and I were the last to be tried, and we could see that our judge was in bad humour that morning and unsparing of abuse and punishment alike. When our turn came we presented ourselves before him, bareheaded, withoutbelts, and guarded by an armed escort. When the charge had been read out the corporal and some men gave evidence in support of it, and we were asked, the Austrian first, as he was a soldier of the first class, what we had to say in reply. Neither could say anything, and truly, unless we had a very good defence indeed, it was best to say nothing, for the commandant, a good man in many ways, was very short-tempered, and was evidently in a rage that morning. The Austrian was condemned to lose his chevron, and then the officer turned to deal with me.
"You have been here often of late," he said, very mildly to all appearance, but I knew what that sudden mildness meant. I said nothing.
"Can you not speak?" he almost roared.
"Yes, sir."
"You have been here often, very often—too often; is it not so?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you think that I have nothing to do except to listen to complaints against you?" Again he spoke very quietly.
"No, sir."
"Then why are you here almost every day?"
"I cannot avoid it, sir."
"Well, well, it is necessary that you learn a lesson. Four hoursen crapaudine. Remember, remember well, not to appear here again soon."
Now I have already described this punishment, and have said something about its effects, as I heard about them from others, and as I saw men when they were put in it, but I was now for the first time to feel them for myself. The adjutant did a very mean thing, and many men who would not mind seeing meen crapaudine, not through any dislike of me but simply because they were used to the sight of prisoners so placed, severely blamed him for it, and blamed him the more severely as they felt that this new system of punishment mightbecome the custom of the battalion. Everyone feared for himself, one may say.
Now it was usual to keep a soldier sentenced to this discipline in the guard-hut until the great heat of the day had passed and then to put him in a certain portion of the parade-ground trussed up like a dead fowl. The adjutant, however, did not allow this to be done with me. He came down to the guard-hut a little before noon, had me taken from the cells to the place of punishment, and there, my ankles being fastened together and my hands manacled behind my back, I was forced upon my knees, my body pressed back until the centres of both pairs of irons were joined as closely together as possible, and so every joint of my body put upon the rack. But this was not all. When I was safelyen crapaudinethe brute knocked my kepi off with his stick, and so I was left in a posture of agony, exposed with bare head to all the torturing rays of an African sun. Now one can understand why my comrades were indignant; now one can see why they dreaded punishment in the noonday hours, for even if the kepi were left on a man's head, he would in all likelihood cast it off by his own struggles, and be sure, be very sure, that no one would dare to approach to replace it. It was replaced for me, I grant, and replaced more than once, and other things were done that helped me in some sort to bear my punishment, but Giulia was not amenable to military law as we others were, and even the adjutant dared not fall out openly with her, for all Frenchmen, including even the commandant, naturally side with the woman in a quarrel, especially when the woman isfiglia del reggimento.
I was not longen crapaudinebefore I realised to the full the awful agony that men endure when they are truly and literally on the rack. Pains were quickly felt by me at the knees and at the ankles and at the wrists. My hands, forced backwards into an unnatural position, dragged heavily upon my neck, and the pain,beginning there, travelled down gradually to the shoulder-joints, so that from neck to ankles there was not a joint without its share of torment. Soon afterwards the small of my back became involved in the general dislocation, and then it seemed to me as if a heavy weight had been placed upon my abdomen and was squeezing the lower part of my body out of all proportion. Then a tight band, as it were, was fastened on my chest; I seemed to feel my ribs crushed in upon my heart, my breath came and went quickly, and, to complete the agony, my forehead began to feel constricted, and shooting pains ran from temple to temple, as if some demon from the lower regions were thrusting and thrusting and thrusting again a red-hot knife through my brain. At this time I must have begun to cry out, or at least to groan, for I was suddenly aware of a rough hand grasping me by the head and another pulling down my underjaw, some hard substance was shoved into my mouth, and in spite of all the pain that I was enduring my senses for a moment came back fully to me. I knew that I was gagged and that the first part of my punishment was over, for men generally drift into insensibility when the gag is applied; there will be an occasional lifting of the eyelids, a spasmodic shaking of the head, and that is all.
I learned afterwards that Giulia had replaced my kepi more than once, and had even bathed my temples and forehead with cold water, but she was not allowed to remove the gag, though she begged and prayed that it might be taken away. The adjutant had wisdom enough to keep away; it was well known that Giulia, for her own protection in so strange a society, so remote too from civilisation, always carried a knife about her person, and very often a dainty little five-chambered revolver that would certainly kill at near range. But for all that he saw that I was bound and gagged to the last minute of the four hours, and the sergeant of the guard, as well as the sentry who stood near, knewvery well the consequences of yielding to Giulia's prayers and entreaties.
"Oh no; anything in reason, Mademoiselle Julie; but you know as well as avieux soldatthat we cannot disobey our orders. Disobedience on our part would injure us and not save your lover in the least."
Giulia understood, and could only weep and pray that the time might fly with eagle wings. Alas! for her, even more than for me, time, had only leaden feet that afternoon in the little cantonment near the desert, and, worst of all, the sun blazed furiously in a cloudless sky.
At long last the fourth hour came to an end. Quickly the gag was withdrawn from my mouth, the irons were taken from my limbs, and I was lifted up to my feet But I could not stand, I staggered and almost fell; Giulia was not strong enough to hold me up, but the sergeant caught me at the other side, and both lowered my body gently to the ground. One could easily see that it was impossible for me to reach without help the hut where my squad lived, and some legionaries who had been looking on with interest at the scene—poor devils, not one of them could tell when his own turn might come—came across from where they were standing and volunteered to carry me to my cot. Giulia gratefully accepted this offer, and I was borne as tenderly as possible to my hut. There some of my own squad took me, undressed me, and put me to bed, and left the hut to Giulia and myself. Giulia managed to get me to drink some brandy and water, and I gradually felt better, but as my senses returned I became more and more conscious of the awful pain in every joint of my body. There was but one thing to set me right again—rest, absolute, complete rest, rest without stir of limb, for every time I ever so slightly moved a terrible stabbing pain ran right from the part I moved through all my body.
That evening the canteen was kept open during theusual hours by the wife of the sergeant who had replaced me in military charge of it. Giulia would not leave me, and in some degree to make up for keeping the others out of their hut, she gave money to those of the squad who had not given evidence against me. The corporal got none, neither did the Austrian; as for two or three others who had been summoned as witnesses before the commandant, they got merely angry words, mixed with contemptuous epithets. They did not stand this long. They left the hut as quickly as possible and kept away until nightfall, when an unpleasant surprise awaited them and the other comrades of the squad. It seems that Giulia went away for a short time while I was sleeping and made certain preparations for spending the night in the hut. Consequently, when the corporal and the soldiers assembled outside and called to Giulia that all lights would soon have to be put out, she told them plainly that the lights would not be put out in that place, that she had candles enough to last until morning, and that she meant to allow no man to enter for the night.
"I stay here," she told them, "for the sake of my lover. I will keep you out for the sake of my good name. I have three loaded revolvers and plenty of spare cartridges, if any one of you should attempt to enter, I will kill him."
They tried to persuade her to go to her own quarters; they promised that they would take turn about to watch me; all was of no use. At last the corporal went and told the adjutant. The latter saw no way of settling the matter, knowing full well that he would receive a bullet rather than a word from Giulia, so he wisely resolved to tell the commandant of the affair. The commandant, in good humour by this time, only laughed and said that he would see about it. So he came across, and, rapping at the door, asked Giulia for the privilege of entering. Giulia opened the door, the commandant saluted her with his customary courtesy,and then inquired for me. I answered for myself, and with deliberate malice I told him that the four hoursen crapaudinewould have been easily endured if I had undergone the punishment in the evening, as was usual, but that the heat of the sun had hurt me severely, especially as the adjutant had knocked my kepi off with his stick. The commandant was indignant; he was only like all officers, who don't care what men suffer so long as the sufferings are not intruded upon their notice, but who, on hearing a specific case of unfair play, will virtuously condemn somebody and then forget all about the affair. That's the way in every army in the world; Sergeant X speaks harshly to Private Y to-day, the captain overhears, and speaks still more harshly to the sergeant for his abuse of the private; next day Private A, who has been soundly rated by Corporal B, seeks redress, and is told at once that he did not get half enough and that if he can only carry foolish complaints to his captain, as a little girl to her mother, he has no right to wear a uniform—he should rather wear a petticoat. Yes; officers are inconsistent in their conduct to the soldiers, so are rich people in their conduct to the poor: one day in the week kindness; six days in the week ugly names and cutting words and, worst of all, unveiled contempt.
Well, the commandant said that he would speak to the adjutant in the morning, and—I may as well finish with this now—he kept his word, and gave the brute as straightforward, pointed, and condensed a reproof as a superior officer ever gave to an inferior. He did it before witnesses of all ranks, and so the story was told through all the battalion, and even those who had no money were happy that day.
When the commandant volunteered to escort Giulia to her abode she refused point-blank.
"I will stay here," she said, "all the night, and I will fire on any man that tries to enter."
The commandant, pretty experienced—as most officersare—in the ways of women, saw that she had quite made up her mind, and, shrugging his shoulders, said: "Very well; but let the men take their greatcoats and blankets away."
"Yes; but you, monsieur le commandant, will wait till all have departed."
"But yes, but yes." And he went to the door and told the men that they were to come in, take their coats and blankets, and leave the hut at once. Afterwards he would dispose of them for the night. He managed well enough by dividing them amongst the neighbouring huts, where the poor, evicted fellows made each man his bed as best he could upon the ground. Then he told the sergeant of the guard that the lights in my hut were not to be taken notice of by the sentries, and went home to bed, proudly happy in the consciousness of having acted kindly towards people, for all of whom—Giulia, of course, excepted—he felt the most supreme contempt when they were not on active service. You must know that in front of the enemy we legionaries were always addressed as "mes enfants," at all other times any ugly name was good enough for us.
Giulia insisted on my staying in bed all next day, and no one said a word about it. In the early forenoon the lieutenant—with whom I got on so well in the march to the cantonment and who was now in charge of the company during the illness of the captain—came and spoke very sympathetically to us both. He said nothing about the lecture read by the commandant to the adjutant, rightly judging that there were many who would be very glad to give us all the news about that. As he was going away he said something to the corporal who was standing near the door. After the officer's departure the sub-officer told me that I might stay in bed another day if I liked. I thanked him, but declined. The fact is, I knew my comrades were anxious to get back to their quarters, as they were sure to be anything but comfortable divided amongst so many squads. Consequently, I told Giulia that evening that I was nearly myself again, and I asked her to bring across a couple of bottles ofeau-de-vie, so that we might make some amends to the others for their eviction. Giulia brought more than I had asked for. She carried across from the canteen two bottles of brandy, three of wine, and a couple of pounds of tobacco. When the others saw the bottles and the packages they were more than satisfied; they drank her health that night, and swore often, and with vehemence, that they would all willingly die for her. What children soldiers are, and how easily they are pleased!
After this I had a fairly easy time for a few weeks. But I had become rather reckless now, and all Giulia's powers of persuasion were needed to prevent me from breaking down into a careless, slovenly soldier. What is the good, I often thought, of cleaning equipments when I shall be abused just as much as if they were really dirty? Where is the use of springing smartly at the word of command when I shall be called a lazy rascal and a stupid fool? What matters it whether I am idle or hardworking when I get the same reward every time? Since I am to be abused and punished let me at least deserve the abuse and the punishment, then I shall be more content. But Giulia would not hear of this. She was determined that I should continue to be a clean, careful, active soldier. She had a wonderful fund of hope, and she had one argument that I could not withstand. "Yes, yes, it is hard," she would say; "but remember, when you begin to deserve trouble, I shall begin to deserve it too." Now, though I could easily be reckless on my own account, I could not find it in my heart to be reckless when Giulia was certain to share the consequences along with me. She was too good, too true, too loving to be drawn by me, who loved her so much, into any rashness which would end bitterly for us both—more bitterly, I fancied, for her, who would survive, than for me, whose troubles would soon be over.Nevertheless, I grew more and more morose every day. True, I was never morose in Giulia's society, but in the hut I was not a pleasant companion, and I am afraid that my comrades left me more and more to myself every day. The corporal did not seem to watch me any longer. I fancy he was getting to be a little afraid. He, as well as the rest, saw that it would take very little to make me lose my temper altogether. And when a desperate legionary, his mind full of real—as mine were—or fancied wrongs, does break out, he is more like the Malay who runs amok than the European who strikes a blow or two and then is carried—kicking, striking, biting, and cursing—to the guard-house. Another reason that the corporal had for not interfering with me was this, the other legionaries were not indignant with me for my moroseness and want of good-fellowship. Now, as a rule, the man who keeps aloof from the rest of his squad has a bad time. Men will not allow themselves and their society to be flouted by another not a bit better, not a bit higher, than themselves. In the Legion all are equal—the ex-prince and the ex-pauper, the man of good character and the man of bad. But when the men of a squad see that a comrade is in bad temper with his superiors and recognise that he has reason, then they will not mind aloofness or sharp answers or ugly words. On the contrary, they will sympathise, never knowing when their own turns may come for ill-treatment. So the corporal, seeing that the men were quite satisfied that I should live my life to myself and felt sympathy and not anger on account of my conduct, wisely left me alone. There were many ugly stories current in the Legion of what had been done by men driven to desperation, and, be it well understood, the sub-officer valued his chevrons a good deal less than he valued his life.
I got myself into trouble more than once about this time, but I was never afterwards puten crapaudine. Twice I was buried up to the neck in the ground, orrather once to the waist and once to the neck. This was called putting a manen silo. It was a hard punishment, but not to be compared with the other. The worst of it was that one felt as if heavy weights were pressing him at all points, but this feeling of pressure was nothing compared to the straining and racking of the joints when one wasen crapaudine. A good proof of this is that I was never gagged whenen silo. I could easily enough stand it without a cry. It is of no account now why I was thus punished. I freely admit that the commandant was quite justified in making me suffer for my offences, but it must be remembered to my credit that there would have been no offences if I had been left alone. Ill-treatment made me act foolishly, that is the first point; I paid for my folly, that is the second; the third is, when a punishment is over the offence that entailed it ought to be forgotten.
I was now, to all intents and purposes, a man apart from his fellows. The other legionaries watched me curiously. They wondered, I fancy, how long I should stand the strain and how the certain result would actually come about. The adjutant was just as tyrannical as ever to the men of the battalion; he distributed his curses and abuse with perfect impartiality, but no one minded now. The officers were the only ones who did not understand, though they, doubtless, had heard of many tragedies in the Legion, yet they seemed to have forgotten all: officers really care only for their own pleasure and comfort, and every one of them, from commandant down to sub-lieutenant, felt quite satisfied so long as there was an appearance of good order and discipline. If I were an officer, I should remember that a troublesome, riotous battalion seldom furnishes materials for a tragedy; a quiet, well-behaved one, where the men speak in drawing-room tones and seem to be always looking out for something, has more elements of danger in it. In the Indian Mutiny it was the good soldier who gave the mosttrouble and took the biggest share of the beating; he mutinied because his conscience drove him to it, and his conscience would not allow him to surrender. When a bad soldier mutinies, any hound is good enough to bite him, and once bitten, he hands in his gun. To put the matter in a nutshell: the battalion was too good; it was so quiet and calm that any man of observation might see that there was something ugly underneath.
CHAPTER XXI
Oneday as I was crossing the parade-ground I saw the adjutant stop Giulia, who was coming to meet me, and speak, as I thought, earnestly to her. I knew that he admired her and that a good deal of my troubles arose from her avowed preference for me, but my mind was quite easy on that score. Dozens of men in the battalion would be very glad to replace me in her favour, but all were aware that she was true as steel, and though this knowledge probably made many more envious of my good fortune yet it certainly kept them from annoying Giulia with unavailing protestations of love. Indeed, Giulia and I often laughed together when a legionary after a second or third glass ofeau-de-vielooked longingly at her for a moment and then sighed with love and liquor. At first she used playfully to resent my allusions to her conquests, but as soon as she understood my absolute faith in her constancy she entered into the spirit of badinage quite as freely as I. I never jested about the adjutant. When we spoke of him we were both angry—I for my disgrace and punishment, Giulia because at the time she understood better than I did the reason of his severity. Many times she told me that he had spoken in a more than friendly manner to her, but she always added that her answers were not the answers he wished for, and I had often heard from my comrades of scenes at or near the canteen when she spoke her mind openly to him and made him feel that worst of all tortures to a man of sensitive mind—words of utter contempt from the woman he adores. What must have made things worse for the adjutant was that he knew, as the othersdid, that his repulses were deserved, and the officer was especially punished in this—that the whole battalion rejoiced in his discomfiture, and men repeated over and over again in hut and guard-house and canteen the very expressions with which Giulia had cut him to the heart. I had never questioned her closely about his behaviour and attempts at love-making—I thought of him as an enemy, not as a rival—but when I saw him so deliberately stop Giulia as she was approaching me I resolved to ask her, not out of jealousy, be it well understood, but out of curiosity, what he had to say so important that he laid his hand upon her arm to detain her.
I could not speak to Giulia that day about this, as very soon after the adjutant had stopped her on the parade-ground I was sent on some duty or other that kept me busy until the canteen was opened, and then there was no chance of private conversation. Next day was Sunday, and I then could be with her for at least a couple of hours, so that I did not mind the delay. While I was in the canteen that Saturday evening, drinking a glass of wine with a couple of Alsatians, I asked Giulia to meet me at the main gate on the following day. She, of course, consented; my asking was only a matter of form, a compliment to the girl. She told me that she would bring a flask of wine and that she would also have a packet of cigarettes and a few cigars.
"Why do you tell me that, Giulia?" I asked. "When you bring me any present I accept and thank you, but you know I want nothing but your comradeship and your love."
"I know well," she replied; "but I want you to come out of the cantonment with me to-morrow. I want to tell you many things, and we shall be away for a long time. If I am not back in time to open the canteen the sergeant's wife will open it for the soldiers. But you and I, we must talk long and earnestly to-morrow.Confide in me as I confide in you. I am true—I shall always be so—and you, I know, will be true as well."
To this I could answer nothing except that I loved her better than my life; that I trusted her more than any man had ever trusted woman; and that I was her own, her very own, for ever.
When we met next day at the main-guard Giulia, as she had promised, had a little parcel that made the sergeant of the guard, the sentry on duty, and the other legionaries lounging about, consider me a happy man in spite of all my misfortunes. I could see that, and I own it gave me pleasure. The lowest, as well as the highest, desires to inspire envy in the hearts of others. So long as they think him especially favoured, the sorrows and troubles, which he alone knows of and feels, seem to diminish, even almost to disappear. But I had more than the envy of my comrades to console me; Giulia, happy and smiling, came towards me as I approached, and the sight of her happiness at meeting me was more than enough to make me forget all my disgrace, all my punishment, the hard words which came as regularly as the bugle went for parade, the extra toil that I was condemned to as the tyrant's enemy, and all the incidental annoyances that were sure to come to one whom his fellows had already named "Pas de chance." Yes; that, as I now remember it, was the last of the happy moments. It seemed as if the gods were giving us an overtaste of happiness before the time of anger, strife, and utter wretchedness opened on our lives.