THE ATTACK ON THE MILL
A month later, on the day preceding
that of Saint Louis, Rocreuse was in a state of terror.
The Prussians had beaten the emperor and were advancing
by forced marches toward the village. For a week
past people who hurried along the highway had been
announcing them thus: “They are at Lormiere they
are at Novelles!” And on hearing that they were
drawing near so rapidly, Rocreuse every morning expected
to see them descend from the wood of Gagny. They
did not come, however, and that increased the fright.
They would surely fall upon the village during the
night and slaughter everybody.
That morning, a little before sunrise,
there was an alarm. The inhabitants were awakened
by the loud tramp of men on the highway. The
women were already on their knees, making the sign
of the cross, when some of the people, peering cautiously
through the partially opened windows, recognized the
red pantaloons. It was a French detachment.
The captain immediately asked for the mayor of the
district and remained at the mill after having talked
with Pere Merlier.
The sun rose gaily that morning.
It would be hot at noon. Over the wood floated
a golden brightness, while in the distance white vapors
arose from the meadows. The neat and pretty village
awoke amid the fresh air, and the country, with its
river and its springs, had the moist sweetness of
a bouquet. But that beautiful day caused nobody
to smile. The captain was seen to take a turn
around the mill, examine the neighboring houses, pass
to the other side of the Morelle and from there study
the district with a field glass; Pere Merlier, who
accompanied him, seemed to be giving him explanations.
Then the captain posted soldiers behind the walls,
behind the trees and in the ditches. The main
body of the detachment encamped in the courtyard of
the mill. Was there going to be a battle?
When Pere Merlier returned he was questioned.
He nodded his head without speaking. Yes, there
was going to be a battle!
Francoise and Dominique were in the
courtyard; they looked at him. At last he took
his pipe from his mouth and said:
“Ah, my poor young ones, you
cannot get married tomorrow!”
Dominique, his lips pressed together,
with an angry frown on his forehead, at times raised
himself on tiptoe and fixed his eyes upon the wood
of Gagny, as if he wished to see the Prussians arrive.
Francoise, very pale and serious, came and went, furnishing
the soldiers with what they needed. The troops
were making soup in a corner of the courtyard; they
joked while waiting for it to get ready.
The captain was delighted. He
had visited the chambers and the huge hall of the
mill which looked out upon the river. Now, seated
beside the well, he was conversing with Pere Merlier.
“Your mill is a real fortress,”
he said. “We can hold it without difficulty
until evening. The bandits are late. They
ought to be here.”
The miller was grave. He saw
his mill burning like a torch, but he uttered no complaint,
thinking such a course useless. He merely said:
“You had better hide the boat
behind the wheel; there is a place there just fit
for that purpose. Perhaps it will be useful to
have the boat.”
The captain gave the requisite order.
This officer was a handsome man of forty; he was tall
and had an amiable countenance. The sight of
Francoise and Dominique seemed to please him.
He contemplated them as if he had forgotten the coming
struggle. He followed Francoise with his eyes,
and his look told plainly that he thought her charming.
Then turning toward Dominique, he asked suddenly:
“Why are you not in the army, my good fellow?”
“I am a foreigner,” answered the young
man.
The captain evidently did not attach
much weight to this reason. He winked his eye
and smiled. Francoise was more agreeable company
than a cannon. On seeing him smile, Dominique
added:
“I am a foreigner, but I can
put a ball in an apple at five hundred meters.
There is my hunting gun behind you.”
“You may have use for it,” responded the
captain dryly.
Francoise had approached, somewhat
agitated. Without heeding the strangers present
Dominique took and grasped in his the two hands she
extended to him, as if to put herself under his protection.
The captain smiled again but said not a word.
He remained seated, his sword across his knees and
his eyes plunged into space, lost in a reverie.
It was already ten o’clock.
The heat had become very great. A heavy silence
prevailed. In the courtyard, in the shadows of
the sheds, the soldiers had begun to eat their soup.
Not a sound came from the village; all its inhabitants
had barricaded the doors and windows of their houses.
A dog, alone upon the highway, howled. From the
neighboring forests and meadows, swooning in the heat,
came a prolonged and distant voice made up of all
the scattered breaths. A cuckoo sang. Then
the silence grew more intense.
Suddenly in that slumbering air a
shot was heard. The captain leaped briskly to
his feet; the soldiers left their plates of soup, yet
half full. In a few seconds everybody was at
the post of duty; from bottom to top the mill was
occupied. Meanwhile the captain, who had gone
out upon the road, had discovered nothing; to the
right and to the left the highway stretched out, empty
and white. A second shot was heard, and still
nothing visible, not even a shadow. But as he
was returning the captain perceived in the direction
of Gagny, between two trees, a light puff of smoke
whirling away like thistledown. The wood was calm
and peaceful.
“The bandits have thrown themselves
into the forest,” he muttered. “They
know we are here.”
Then the firing continued, growing
more and more vigorous, between the French soldiers
posted around the mill and the Prussians hidden behind
the trees. The balls whistled above the Morelle
without damaging either side. The fusillade was
irregular, the shots coming from every bush, and still
only the little puffs of smoke, tossed gently by the
breeze, were seen. This lasted nearly two hours.
The officer hummed a tune with an air of indifference.
Francoise and Dominique, who had remained in the courtyard,
raised themselves on tiptoe and looked over a low wall.
They were particularly interested in a little soldier
posted on the shore of the Morelle, behind the remains
of an old bateau; he stretched himself out flat on
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!”