had found a field of potatoes near the house, and had rushed at it in company with Lapoulle, both of them tearing up the plants, grubbing up the potatoes with their hands, and filling their pockets with them. But on hearing Chouteau, who was looking over a low wall, whistle to them to approach, they ran up, and at the sight they beheld vented their feelings in exclamations. A flock of a dozen magnificent geese was promenading majestically in a narrow courtyard. The men at once held council, and Lapoulle was prevailed upon to jump over the wall. There was a terrible fight; the goose he seized almost bit off his nose with its terrible shear-like bill, whereupon he caught it by the neck and tried to strangle it, whilst it dug its powerful webbed feet into his arms and stomach. At last he had to crush its head with a blow of his sturdy fist, but even then it continued struggling and he made all haste to decamp, followed by the other birds of the flock, who were tearing his legs.
As the three men returned, with the goose and the potatoes stowed away in a sack, they met Jean and Pache coming back, well pleased, on their side, with the result of their expedition, for they were laden with four new loaves and a cheese, purchased of a worthy old peasant woman. 'The water's boiling, so we'll make some coffee,' said the corporal. 'We have some bread and some cheese—it'll be a regular feast.'
But he suddenly perceived the goose stretched out at his feet, and could not help laughing. He felt the bird in a knowing way, and was quite overcome with admiration. 'The devil!' said he, 'she's plump and no mistake. She must weigh about twenty pounds.'
'We happened to meet her,' explained Loubet with that waggish air of his, 'and she desired to make our acquaintance.'
Jean waved his hand, as much as to say that he did not wish to know any more. Men must live, and, besides, why shouldn't these poor devils, who could hardly remember what poultry tasted like, have a bit of a treat once in a way? Loubet was already lighting a bright fire, whilst Pache and Lapoulle tore the feathers off the bird, and Chouteau ran up to the artillery camp to ask for a piece of string. When he returned he hung the goose from a couple of bayonets in front of the bright fire, and Maurice was appointed to give it a dig now and then, so as to make it turn. The fat fell into the squad's platter placed underneath, and the entire regiment, attracted by the savoury smell, formed a circle around. And what a feast there was! Roast goose, boiled potatoes, bread and cheese! When Jean had cut up the bird, the squad began gorging. There was no question of portions, they one and all tucked away till they could eat no more; and a piece was even presented to the artillerymen who had provided the string.
It happened that evening that the officers of the regiment had to fast. Owing to wrong directions, the sutler's van had gone astray; it had no doubt followed the great convoy. Although the men suffered when no rations were given out, they generally ended by securing something to eat—they helped one another, the soldiers of each squad shared whatever they happened to have; but the officer, isolated, left to his own resources, had no alternative but to starve when the canteen did not turn up. Accordingly, Chouteau, who had heard Captain Beaudoin complaining of the disappearance of the provision van, began to sneer and jeer when—whilst tackling some of the goose's carcass—he saw the captain pass by with a proud, stiff air. 'Look at him,' he said, tipping the others a wink. 'See how he's sniffing. He'd give five francs for the parson's nose.'
They all began to laugh at the captain's hunger, for he was not popular among his men; they considered him too young and too severe, too prone to reprimand them unnecessarily. It seemed for a moment as if he intended to reprove the squad for the scandal which that goose of theirs was causing; but the fear no doubt of showing how hungry he was, induced him to walk off with his head erect as if he had seen nothing. As for Lieutenant Rochas, who was also feeling terribly hungry, he meandered round the fortunate squad, laughing in a good-natured way. He was greatly liked by his men, first because he execrated that puppy, the captain, who owed his rank as an officer to his attendance at the military school of St. Cyr, and, secondly, because in time past he had carried the knapsack like themselves. And yet he was not always a pleasant customer to deal with, being at times so coarse and insulting in his language that he positively deserved cuffing. After exchanging glances with his comrades, by way of consulting them, Jean rose up and induced Rochas to follow him behind the tent. 'Beg pardon, sir,' he said, 'but without offending you, may we offer you some of this?' And thereupon he passed him a large piece of bread with a platter on which was one of the goose's legs, atop of half a dozen large potatoes.
Again that night the squad needed no rocking to sleep. The six men digested that bird with their fists clenched. They owed thanks to the corporal for the firm manner in which he had pitched their tent, for they were not even aware of a violent squall which blew over the camp at about two o'clock in the morning, accompanied by driving rain. Some tents were carried away, and the men, starting from their sleep, were soaked through, and had to run hither and thither in the darkness; but the squad's tent resisted the onslaught of the wind, and the men were comfortably under cover with not a drop of water to inconvenience them, thanks to the little trenches into which the rain dribbled.
Maurice awoke at daybreak, and, as the march was not to be resumed before eight o'clock, he decided to climb the hill where the reserve artillery was encamped, so as to shake hands with his cousin Honoré. After that good night's rest his foot caused him less pain. He was struck with admiring astonishment on seeing how well the park was dressed, the six guns of each battery correctly aligned and followed by the caissons, ammunition, and forage vans, and field smithies. Farther off, the picketed horses were neighing with their heads turned towards the rising sun. And Maurice immediately found Honoré's tent, thanks to the orderly system that allots one row of tents to the men of each gun; so that the number of guns is clearly indicated by the aspect of an artillery encampment.
The artillerymen were already up, and were taking their coffee, when Maurice arrived and found that a quarrel had broken out between Adolphe, the front driver, and his chum Louis, the gunner. They had got on very well together, except with regard to messing, during the three years that they had chummed together—according to the system by which, in the French artillery, a driver and a gunner are coupled. Louis, who was very intelligent, and the better educated of the two, cheerfully accepted the state of dependence in which every mounted man keeps the footman his comrade, and he pitched the tent, performed the fatigue duties, and looked after the soupe, whilst Adolphe, with an air of superiority, simply attended to his two horses. At the same time, however, Louis, who was dark and thin and afflicted with an excessive appetite, revolted when his comrade, a tall fellow with bushy fair moustaches, presumed to help himself like a master. That morning, for instance, the quarrel had arisen through Louis accusing Adolphe of drinking all the coffee which he, Louis, had made. It became necessary to reconcile them.
Every morning, immediately after the reveille, Honoré went to have a look at his gun, and saw that the night dew was carefully wiped from it in his presence, just as though it were a question of rubbing down some favourite horse, for fear lest it should catch cold. And he was standing there, like a father, watching the gun shine in the clear atmosphere of the dawn, when he recognised Maurice: 'Hallo!' he said; 'I knew that the 106th was near by. I received a letter from Remilly, yesterday, and I meant to have gone down to you. Let's go and drink a cup of white wine.'
So that they might be alone together, he took him towards the little farmhouse plundered the day before, whose peasant owner, altogether incorrigible and still eager for gain, had now tapped a cask of white wine in view of playing the taverner. He served the liquor on a plank outside his door, at a charge of four sous the glass, being assisted in the work by the man whom he had engaged three days previously, the colossal, fair-haired Alsatian. Honoré and Maurice were already chinking glasses, when the eyes of the former fell upon the so-called refugee. For an instant he scanned his face with an air of stupefaction. Then he swore a terrible oath: 'By the thunder of God! Goliath!'
He sprang forward, wishing to seize the scamp by the throat, but the farmer, imagining that his house was about to be pillaged afresh, darted back and barricaded the door. There was a moment's confusion, and all the soldiers present rushed forward,
