The Celebrated Short Stories of Guy de Maupassant: 100+ Classic Tales in One Edition. Guy de Maupassant
order to walk barefoot, as his shoes hurt his weary feet; and at every step he left a track of blood. Then, after some time, he would sit down in a field for a few minutes’ rest, and he never got up again. Every man who sat down was a dead man.
“Should we have left behind us those poor, exhausted soldiers, who fondly counted on being able to start afresh as soon as they had somewhat refreshed their stiffened legs? But scarcely had they ceased to move, and to make their almost frozen blood circulate in their veins, than an unconquerable torpor congealed them, nailed them to the ground, closed their eyes, and paralyzed in one second this overworked human mechanism. And they gradually sank down, their foreheads on their knees, without, however, falling over, for their loins and their limbs became as hard and immovable as wood, impossible to bend or to stand upright.
“And the rest of us, more robust, kept straggling on, chilled to the marrow, advancing by a kind of inertia through the night, through the snow, through that cold and deadly country, crushed by pain, by defeat, by despair, above all overcome by the abominable sensation of abandonment, of the end, of death, of nothingness.
“I saw two gendarmes holding by the arm a curious-looking little man, old, beardless, of truly surprising aspect.
“They were looking for an officer, believing that they had caught a spy. The word ‘spy’ at once spread through the midst of the stragglers, and they gathered in a group round the prisoner. A voice exclaimed: ‘He must be shot!’ And all these soldiers who were falling from utter prostration, only holding themselves on their feet by leaning on their guns, felt all of a sudden that thrill of furious and bestial anger which urges on a mob to massacre.
“I wanted to speak. I was at that time in command of a battalion; but they no longer recognized the authority of their commanding officers; they would even have shot me.
“One of the gendarmes said: ‘He has been following us for the three last days. He has been asking information from every one about the artillery.’”
I took it on myself to question this person.
“What are you doing? What do you want? Why are you accompanying the army?”
“He stammered out some words in some unintelligible dialect. He was, indeed, a strange being, with narrow shoulders, a sly look, and such an agitated air in my presence that I really no longer doubted that he was a spy. He seemed very aged and feeble. He kept looking at me from under his eyes with a humble, stupid, crafty air.
“The men all round us exclaimed.
“‘To the wall! To the wall!’
“I said to the gendarmes:
“‘Will you be responsible for the prisoner?’
“I had not ceased speaking when a terrible shove threw me on my back, and in a second I saw the man seized by the furious soldiers, thrown down, struck, dragged along the side of the road, and flung against a tree. He fell in the snow, nearly dead already.
“And immediately they shot him. The soldiers fired at him, reloaded their guns, fired again with the desperate energy of brutes. They fought with each other to have a shot at him, filed off in front of the corpse, and kept on firing at him, as people at a funeral keep sprinkling holy water in front of a coffin.
“But suddenly a cry arose of ‘The Prussians! the Prussians!’
“And all along the horizon I heard the great noise of this panic-stricken army in full flight.
“A panic, the result of these shots fired at this vagabond, had filled his very executioners with terror; and, without realizing that they were themselves the originators of the scare, they fled and disappeared in the darkness.
“I remained alone with the corpse, except for the two gendarmes whose duty compelled them to stay with me.
“They lifted up the riddled mass of bruised and bleeding flesh.
“‘He must be searched,’ I said. And I handed them a box of taper matches which I had in my pocket. One of the soldiers had another box. I was standing between the two.
“The gendarme who was examining the body announced:
“‘Clothed in a blue blouse, a white shirt, trousers, and a pair of shoes.’
“The first match went out; we lighted a second. The man continued, as he turned out his pockets:
“‘A horn-handled pocketknife, check handkerchief, a snuffbox, a bit of pack thread, a piece of bread.’
“The second match went out; we lighted a third. The gendarme, after having felt the corpse for a long time, said:
“‘That is all.’
“I said:
“‘Strip him. We shall perhaps find something next his skin.”
“And in order that the two soldiers might help each other in this task, I stood between them to hold the lighted match. By the rapid and speedily extinguished flame of the match, I saw them take off the garments one by one, and expose to view that bleeding bundle of flesh, still warm, though lifeless.
“And suddenly one of them exclaimed:
“‘Good God, general, it is a woman!’
“I cannot describe to you the strange and poignant sensation of pain that moved my heart. I could not believe it, and I knelt down in the snow before this shapeless pulp of flesh to see for myself: it was a woman.
“The two gendarmes, speechless and stunned, waited for me to give my opinion on the matter. But I did not know what to think, what theory to adopt.
“Then the brigadier slowly drawled out:
“‘Perhaps she came to look for a son of hers in the artillery, whom she had not heard from.’
“And the other chimed in:
“‘Perhaps, indeed, that is so.’
“And I, who had seen some very terrible things in my time, began to cry. And I felt, in the presence of this corpse, on that icy cold night, in the midst of that gloomy plain; at the sight of this mystery, at the sight of this murdered stranger, the meaning of that word ‘horror.’
“I had the same sensation last year, while interrogating one of the survivors of the Flatters Mission, an Algerian sharpshooter.
“You know the details of that atrocious drama. It is possible, however, that you are unacquainted with one of them.
“The colonel travelled through the desert into the Soudan, and passed through the immense territory of the Touaregs, who, in that great ocean of sand which stretches from the Atlantic to Egypt and from the Soudan to Algeria, are a kind of pirates, resembling those who ravaged the seas in former days.
“The guides who accompanied the column belonged to the tribe of the Chambaa, of Ouargla.
“Now, one day we encamped in the middle of the desert, and the Arabs declared that, as the spring was still some distance away, they would go with all their camels to look for water.
“One man alone warned the colonel that he had been betrayed. Flatters did not believe this, and accompanied the convoy with the engineers, the doctors, and nearly all his officers.
“They were massacred round the spring, and all the camels were captured.
“The captain of the Arab Intelligence Department at Ouargla, who had remained in the camp, took command of the survivors, spahis and sharpshooters, and they began to retreat, leaving behind them the baggage and provisions, for want of camels to carry them.
“Then they started on their journey through this solitude without shade and boundless, beneath the devouring sun, which burned them from morning till night.
“One tribe came to tender its submission and brought dates as a tribute. The dates were