i had fallen face downwards. i experienced a sensation of shattering and laceration. my eyes closed. i made a convulsive effort to get up. impossible! but where was i wounded? my head was swimming, everything was turning round me. i was dying.
"your leg, isn't it?"
i succeeded in opening my eyes again.
guillaumin!
"yes—i think so!" i stammered.
"hurts a bit, what?"
i tried to lift up my head and spit some soil out. everything grew dim again. i caught sight of a clown's face—judsi, leaning over me, too.
"carry on! carry on!" i murmured.
they disappeared from my field of vision. i saw another line of men pass in skirmishing order, then another. was my brain affected? why did i think i was back in camp at mailly and once more taking part in the parade before the bey of tunis?
by some strange instinct, i dreaded being helped. i preferred to die in peace. for i thought my hour had come, and abandoned myself unregretfully.
meanwhile, some time passed. instead of agonising, i recovered my wits.
[pg 479]
it was my right leg that had been hit—the bone to a certainty! for the moment, the pain was not so intolerable. i felt as if my leg had been substituted by a mass of lead.
ah! the sun! already high in the heavens!
i now began to wish for help, but the plateau was abandoned. quite near me there was a dead body—poor prunelle—fallen in the posture of an oriental suppliant. farther on gaufrèteau was drawing his last breath.
a tree stood a few yards off; a minute rise in the ground blocked out all the horizon.
i was thinking, longing to find out what really had happened. i struggled obstinately to turn over onto one side. at last i succeeded. by raising myself up on my elbow, i was able to examine my leg. it made a hideous angle under the trouser. the foot turned back towards the knee. there would have been reason enough to shudder, if that inert mass had not literally seemed a thing quite apart from me.
i thought of dressing my wound, but my strength was not up to undoing my pack and slitting up the cloth round my leg.
what was the result of the engagement? everything tended to show that our masterly stroke at dawn had been successful. but were we following up our advantage? and how far? if only i could have dragged myself as far as that tree! i calculated the distance. what hope possessed me? i succeeded at the cost of real torture in getting into a sitting position. now my plan was made. i must move backwards, propelling myself by my fists!
oh! what a ghastly journey that was! i watched the removal of my leg. it was throbbing, but did not[pg 480] cause me acute pain, and seemed as if paralysed; mis-shapen and swollen, like a great ball, pinning me to the ground. i was as weak as a baby. ten times over my head sank, my clenched fingers relaxed. i allowed myself a good rest, first after each half yard then after each foot, then even this latter distance seemed to me excessive.
having attained my end—how i do not know—i drew breath for a long time.
it now remained for me—i was ambitious—to stand up—to see something. i gripped the trunk with both arms, while my sound leg stiffened—in vain—my god! the other was pinned to the ground!
i changed my tactics, and set about raising myself on one knee. when i had got there, i exerted all the strength of my being, and began to pull myself up slowly, oh, so slowly! my grip alone supported me. my hands were grazed by the bark.
on my feet, at last—triumphant! i was able to gaze far across the plain in front of me.
it was a large expanse of wild country, cut by a railway. little did i care for the view. what i sought for hungrily was that cloud of dust—the men. i ended by discovering it. in the distance, as far as eye could see, there was a line of skirmishers—easily recognisable—our greatcoats and red trousers!
vloumm! rouvloumm! vloumm! a cannonade echoed near at hand, making the air waves vibrate. about a mile and a half away a battery of the 75's let off a trial round. too short! they harnessed up again, swung round, and were off at a gallop.
yonder a company of dragoons were trotting in the same direction. the pursuit had begun.
[pg 481]
by some intuition or suggestion my vision increased at this point. i had the feeling that i could see from one end to the other of our front. on the ourcq just by, and farther off on the marne, the meuse, the moselle, this very destiny was being pronounced; this very morning, at this very hour, the success of our counter-offensive; the hostile rabble dislocated, broken, forced to retreat.
paris and france saved! a grand date in the history of the world! what did it matter how long the war might last.
i greeted the day of glory. this noble stretch of country, the ?le-de-france, stood forth before us—our adopted land—and lay stretched at our feet, presenting a fertile appearance for our sakes.
preserved for the sons of my race, the acres which nourished us with their substance of life-giving properties. i thought not at all of my wound, of my life, no doubt in danger. content to have lived until this sublime instant, i united in the same love, the freed territory, the luminary shining on my country, the beings dear to my heart; and enlacing the rugged tree, i eagerly stretched myself up to follow to the very horizon our victorious colours.
my strength suddenly gave way. the leaden weight became aggravated. i yielded with the one idea of falling upon my sound limb. my forehead struck the ground and i fell into a deep swoon.
