selected writings-第49节
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〃At this； the men raised a hearty laugh； and we felt quite
light…hearted； while Pratique； who was walking by the side of the
litter； waved his kepi； and shouted：
〃Vive la France！' And I felt really moved。 I do not know why；
except that I thought it a pretty and gallant thing to say。
〃It seemed to me as if we had just saved the whole of France； and
had done something that other men could not have done； something
simple； and really patriotic。 I shall never forget that little
face； you may be sure； and if I had to give my opinion about
abolishing drums； trumpets； and bugles； I should propose to
replace them in every regiment by a pretty girl； and that would
be even better than playing the 'Marseillaise。' By Jove！ it would
put some spirit into a trooper to have a Madonna like that； a
living Madonna； by the colonel's side。〃
He was silent for a few moments； and then with an air of
conviction； and jerking his head； continued：
〃You see； we are very fond of women； we Frenchmen！〃
TWO LITTLE SOLDIERS
Every Sunday； the moment they were dismissed； the two little
soldiers made off。 Once outside the barracks； they struck out to
the right through Courbevoie； walking with long rapid strides； as
though they were on a march。
When they were beyond the last of the houses； they slackened pace
along the bare； dusty roadway which goes toward Bezons。
They were both small and thin； and looked quite lost in their
coats； which were too big and too long。 Their sleeves hung down
over their hands； and they found their enormous red breeches；
which compelled them to waddle； very much in the way。 Under their
stiff； high helmets their faces had little charactertwo poor；
sallow Breton faces； simple with an almost animal simplicity； and
with gentle and quiet blue eyes。
They never conversed during these walks； but went straight on；
each with the same thought in his head。 This thought atoned for
the lack of conversation； it was this； that just inside the
little wood near Les Champioux they had found a place which
reminded them of their own country； where they could feel happy
again。
When they arrived under the trees where the roads from Colombes
and from Chatou cross； they would take off their heavy helmets
and wipe their foreheads。 They always halted on the Bezons bridge
to look at the Seine； and would remain there two or three
minutes； bent double； leaning on the parapet。
Sometimes they would gaze out over the great basin of Argenteuil；
where the skiffs might be seen scudding； with their white；
careening sails； recalling perhaps the look of the Breton waters；
the harbor of Vanne； near which they lived； and the fishing…boats
standing out across the Morbihan to the open sea。
Just beyond the Seine they bought their provisions from a sausage
merchant； a baker； and a wine…seller。 A piece of blood…pudding；
four sous' worth of bread； and a liter of 〃petit bleu〃
constituted the provisions； which they carried off in their
handkerchiefs。 After they had left Bezons they traveled slowly
and began to talk。
In front of them a barren plain studded with clumps of trees led
to the wood； to the little wood which had seemed to them to
resemble the one at Kermarivan。 Grainfields and hayfields
bordered the narrow path； which lost itself in the young
greenness of the crops； and Jean Kerderen would always say to Luc
le Ganidec：
〃It looks like it does near Plounivon。〃
〃Yes； exactly。〃
Side by side they strolled； their souls filled with vague
memories of their own country； with awakened images as naive as
the pictures on the colored broadsheets which you buy for a
penny。 They kept on recognizing； as it were； now a corner of a
field； a hedge； a bit of moorland； now a crossroad； now a granite
cross。 Then； too； they would always stop beside a certain
landmark； a great stone； because it looked something like the
cromlech at Locneuven。
Every Sunday on arriving at the first clump of trees Luc le
Ganidec would cut a switch； a hazel switch； and begin gently to
peel off the bark； thinking meanwhile of the folk at home。 Jean
Kerderen carried the provisions。
From time to time Luc would mention a name； or recall some deed
of their childhood in a few brief words； which caused long
thoughts。 And their own country； their dear； distant country；
recaptured them little by little； seizing on their imaginations；
and sending to them from afar her shapes； her sounds； her
well…known prospects； her odorsodors of the green lands where
the salt sea…air was blowing。
No longer conscious of the exhalations of the Parisian stables；
on which the earth of the banlieue fattens； they scented the
perfume of the flowering broom； which the salt breeze of the open
sea plucks and bears away。 And the sails of the boats from the
river banks seemed like the white wings of the coasting vessels
seen beyond the great plain which extended from their homes to
the very margin of the sea。
They walked with short steps； Luc le Ganidec and Jean Kerderen；
content and sad； haunted by a sweet melancholy； by the lingering；
ever…present sorrow of a caged animal who remembers his liberty。
By the time that Luc had stripped the slender wand of its bark
they reached the corner of the wood where every Sunday they took
breakfast。 They found the two bricks which they kept hidden in
the thicket； and kindled a little fire of twigs； over which to
roast the blood…pudding at the end of a bayonet。
When they had breakfasted； eaten their bread to the last crumb；
and drunk their wine to the last drop； they remained seated side
by side upon the grass； saying nothing； their eyes on the
distance； their eyelids drooping； their fingers crossed as at
mass； their red legs stretched out beside the poppies of the
field。 And the leather of their helmets and the brass of their
buttons glittered in the ardent sun； making the larks； which sang
and hovered above their heads； cease in mid…song。
Toward noon they began to turn their eyes from time to time in
the direction of the village of Bezons； because the girl with the
cow was coming。 She passed by them every Sunday on her way to
milk and change the pasture of her cowthe only cow in this
district which ever went out of the stable to grass。 It was
pastured in a narrow field along the edge of the wood a little
farther on。
They soon perceived the girl； the only human being within vision；
and were gladdened by the brilliant reflections thrown off by the
tin milk…pail under the rays of the sun。 They never talked about
her。 They were simply glad to see her； without understanding why。
She was a big strong wench with red hair； burned by the heat of
sunny days； a sturdy product of the environs of Paris。
Once； finding them seated in the same place； she said：
〃Good morning。 You two are always here； aren't you？〃
Luc le Ganidec； the bolder； stammered：
〃Yes； we come to rest。〃
That was all。 But the next Sunday she laughed on seeing them；
laughed with a protecting benevolence and a feminine keenness
which knew well enough that they were bashful。 And she asked：
〃What are you doing there？ Are you trying to see the grass grow？〃
Luc was cheered up by this； and smiled likewise： 〃Maybe we are。〃
〃That's pretty slow work；〃 said she。
He answered； still laughing： 〃Well； yes； it is。〃
She went on。 But coming back with a milk…pail full of milk； she
stopped again before them； and said：
〃Would you like a little？ It will taste like home。〃
With the instinctive feeling that they were of the same peasant
race as she； being herself perhaps also far away from home； she
had divined and touched the spot。
They were both touched。 Then with some difficulty； she managed to
make a little milk run into the neck of the glass bottle in which
they carried their wine。 And Luc drank first； with little
swallows； stopping every minute to see whether he had drunk more
than his half。 Then he handed the bottle to Jean。
She stood upright before them； her hands on her hips； her pail on
the ground at her feet； glad at the pleasure which she had given。
Then she departed； shouting： 〃Allons； adieu！ Till next Sunday！〃
And as long as they could see her at all； they followed with
their eyes her tall silhouette； which faded； growing smaller and
smaller； seeming to sink into the verdure of the fields。
When they were leaving the barracks the week after； Jean said to
Luc：
〃Oughtn't we to buy her something good？〃
They were in great embarrassment before the problem of the choice
of a delicacy for the girl with the cow。 Luc was of the opinion
that a little tripe would be the best； but Jean preferred some
berlingots because he was fond of sweets。 His choice fairly made
him enthusiastic； and they bought at a grocer's two sous' worth
of white and red candies。
They at
