massacres of the south-第55节

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A　wine　merchant　called　Cabanot；　who　was　flying　from　Trestaillons；　ran
into　a　house　in　which　there　was　a　venerable　priest　called　Cure
Bonhomme。　　When　the　cut…throat　rushed　in；　all　covered　with　blood；　the
priest　advanced　and　stopped　him；　crying：

〃What　will　happen；　unhappy　man；　when　you　come　to　the　confessional
with　blood…stained　hands？〃

〃Pooh！〃　replied　Trestaillons；　〃you　must　put　on　your　wide　gown；　the
sleeves　are　large　enough　to　let　everything　pass。〃

To　the　short　account　given　above　of　so　many　murders　I　will　add　the
narrative　of　one　to　which　I　was　an　eye…witness；　and　which　made　the
most　terrible　impression　on　me　of；　anything　in　my　experience。

It　was　midnight。　　I　was　working　beside　my　wife's　bed；　she　was　just
becoming　drowsy；　when　a　noise　in　the　distance　caught　our　attention。
It　gradually　became　more　distinct；　and　drums　began　to　beat　the
'generale'　in　every　direction。　　Hiding　my　own　alarm　for　fear　of
increasing　hers；　I　answered　my　wife；　who　was　asking　what　new　thing
was　about　to　happen；　that　it　was　probably　troops　marching　in　or　out
of　garrison。　　But　soon　reports　of　firearms；　accompanied　by　an　uproar
with　which　we　were　so　familiar　that　we　could　no　longer　mistake　its
meaning；　were　heard　outside。　　Opening　my　window；　I　heard
bloodcurdling　imprecations；　mixed　with　cries　of　〃Long　live　the　king！〃
going　on。　　Not　being　able　to　remain　any　longer　in　this　uncertainty；　I
woke　a　captain　who　lived　in　the　same　house。　　He　rose；　took　his　arms；
and　we　went　out　together；　directing　our　course　towards　the　point
whence　the　shouts　seemed　to　come。　　The　moon　shone　so　bright　that　we
could　see　everything　almost　as　distinctly　as　in　broad　daylight。

A　concourse　of　people　was　hurrying　towards　the　Cours　yelling　like
madmen；　the　greater　number　of　them；　half　naked；　armed　with　muskets；
swords；　knives；　and　clubs；　and　swearing　to　exterminate　everything；
waved　their　weapons　above　the　heads　of　men　who　had　evidently　been
torn　from　their　houses　and　brought　to　the　square　to　be　put　to　death。
The　rest　of　the　crowd　had；　like　ourselves；　been　drawn　thither　by
curiosity；　and　were　asking　what　was　going　on。　　〃　Murder　is　abroad；〃
was　the　answer；　〃several　people　have　been　killed　in　the　environs；　and
the　patrol　has　been　fired　on。〃　　While　this　questioning　was　going　on
the　noise　continued　to　increase。　　As　I　had　really　no　business　to　be
on　a　spot　where　such　things　were　going　on；　and　feeling　that　my　place
was　at　my　wife's　side；　to　reassure　her　for　the　present　and　to　watch
over　her　should　the　rioters　come　our　way；　I　said　good…bye　to　the
captain；　who　went　on　to　the　barracks；　and　took　the　road　back　to　the
suburb　in　which　I　lived。

I　was　not　more　than　fifty　steps　from　our　house　when　I　heard　loud
talking　behind　me；　and；　turning；　saw　gun　barrels　glittering　in　the
moonlight。　　As　the　speakers　seemed　to　be　rapidly　approaching　me；　I
kept　close　in　the　shadow　of　the　houses　till　I　reached　my　own　door；
which　I　laid　softly　to　behind　me；　leaving　myself　a　chink　by　which　I
could　peep　out　and　watch　the　movements　of　the　group　which　was　drawing
near。　　Suddenly　I　felt　something　touch　my　hand；　it　was　a　great
Corsican　dog；　which　was　turned　loose　at　night；　and　was　so　fierce　that
it　was　a　great　protection　to　our　house。　　I　felt　glad　to　have　it　at　my
side；　for　in　case　of　a　struggle　it　would　be　no　despicable　ally。

Those　approaching　turned　out　to　be　three　armed　men　leading　a　fourth；
disarmed　and　a　prisoner。　　They　all　stopped　just　opposite　my　door；
which　I　gently　closed　and　locked；　but　as　I　still　wished　to　see　what
they　were　about；　I　slipped　into　the　garden；　which　lay　towards　the
street；　still　followed　by　my　dog。　　Contrary　to　his　habit；　and　as　if
he　understood　the　danger；　he　gave　a　low　whine　instead　of　his　usual
savage　growl。　　I　climbed　into　a　fig　tree　the　branches　of　which
overhung　the　street；　and；　hidden　by　the　leaves；　and　resting　my　hands
on　the　top　of　the　wall；　I　leaned　far　enough　forward　to　see　what　the
men　were　about。

They　were　still　on　the　same　spot；　but　there　was　a　change　in　their
positions。　　The　prisoner　was　now　kneeling　with　clasped　hands　before
the　cut…throats；　begging　for　his　life　for　the　sake　of　his　wife　and
children；　in　heartrending　accents；　to　which　his　executioners　replied
in　mocking　tones；　〃We　have　got　you　at　last　into　our　hands；　have　we？
You　dog　of　a　Bonapartist；　why　do　you　not　call　on　your　emperor　to　come
and　help　you　out　of　this　scrape？〃　The　unfortunate　man's　entreaties
became　more　pitiful　and　their　mocking　replies　more　pitiless。　　They
levelled　their　muskets　at　him　several　times；　and　then　lowered　them；
saying；　〃Devil　take　it；　we　won't　shoot　yet；　let　us　give　him　time　to
see　death　coming；〃　till　at　last　the　poor　wretch；　seeing　there　was　no
hope　of　mercy；　begged　to　be　put　out　of　his　misery。

Drops　of　sweat　stood　on　my　forehead。　　I　felt　my　pockets　to　see　if　I
had　nothing　on　me　which　I　could　use　as　a　weapon；　but　I　had　not　even　a
knife。　　I　looked　at　my　dog；　he　was　lying　flat　at　the　foot　of　the
tree；　and　appeared　to　be　a　prey　to　the　most　abject　terror。　　The
prisoner　continued　his　supplications；　and　the　assassins　their　threats
and　mockery。　　I　climbed　quietly　down　out　of　the　fig　tree；　intending
to　fetch　my　pistols。　　My　dog　followed　me　with　his　eyes；　which　seemed
to　be　the　only　living　things　about　him。　　Just　as　my　foot　touched　the
ground　a　double　report　rang　out；　and　my　dog　gave　a　plaintive　and
prolonged　howl。　　Feeling　that　all　was　over；　and　that　no　weapons　could
be　of　any　use；　I　climbed　up　again　into　my　perch　and　looked　out。　　The
poor　wretch　was　lying　face　downwards　writhing　in　his　blood；　the
assassins　were　reloading　their　muskets　as　they　walked　away。

Being　anxious　to　see　if　it　was　too　late　to　help　the　man　whom　I　had
not　been　able　to　save；　I　went　out　into　the　street　and　bent　over　him。
He　was　bloody；　disfigured；　dying；　but　was　yet　alive；　uttering　dismal
groans。　　I　tried　to　lift　him　up；　but　soon　saw　that　the　wounds　which
he　had　received　from　bullets　fired　at　close　range　were　both　mortal；
one　being　in　the　head；　and　the　other　in　the　loins。　　Just　then　a
patrol；　of　the　National　Guard　turned　round　the　corner　of　the　street。
This；　instead　of　being　a　relief；　awoke　me　to　a　sense　of　my　danger；
and　feeling　I　could　do　nothing　for　the　wounded　man；　for　the　death
rattle　had　already　begun；　I　entered　my　house；　half　shut　the　door；　and
listened。

〃Qui　vive？〃　asked　the　corporal。

〃Idiot！〃　said　someone　else；　〃to　ask　'　Qui　vive　？'　of　a　dead　man！〃

〃He　is　not　dead；〃　said　a　third　voice；　〃listen　to　him　singing〃；　and
indeed　the　poor　fellow　in　his　agony　was　giving　utterance　to　dreadful
groans。

〃Someone　has　tickled　him　well；〃　said　a　fourth；　〃but　what　does　it
matter？　　We　had　better　finish　the　job。〃

Five　or　six　musket　shots　followed；　and　the　groans　ceased。

The　name　of　the　man　who　had　just　expired　was　Louis　Lichaire；　it　was
not　against　him；　but　against　his　nephew；　that　the　assassins　had　had　a
grudge；　but　finding　the　nephew　out　when　they　burst　into　the　house；
and　a　victim　being　indispensable；　they　had　torn　the　uncle　from　the
arms　of　his　wife；　and；　dragging　him　towards　the　citadel；　had　killed
him　as　I　have　just　related。

Very　early　next　morning　I　sent　to　three　commissioners　of　police；　one
after　the　other；　for　permission　to　have　the　corpse　carried　to　the
hospital；　but　these　gentlemen　were　either　not　up　or　had　already　gone
out；　so　that　it　was　not　until　eleven　o'clock　and　after　repeated
applications　that　they　condescended　to　give　me　the　needed
authorisation。

Thanks　to　this　delay；　the　whole　town　came　to　see　the　body　of　the
unfortunate　man。　　Indeed；　the　day　which　followed　a　massacre　was
always　kept　as　a　holiday；　everyone　leaving　his　work　undone　and　coming
out　to　stare　at　the　slaughtered　victims。　　In　this　case；　a　man　wishing
to　amuse　the　crowd　took　his　pipe　out　of　his　mouth　and　put　it　between
the　teeth　of　the　corpsea　joke　which　had　a　marvellous　success；　those
present　shrieking　with　laughter。

Many　murders　had　been　committed　during　the　night；　the　companies　had
scoured　the　streets　singing　some　doggerel；　which　one　of　the　bloody
wretches；　being　in　poetic　vein；　had　composed；　the　chorus　of　which
was；

　　　　〃Our　work's　well　done；
　　　　　We　spare　none！〃

Seventeen　fatal　outrages　were　committed；　and　yet　neither　the　reports
of　the　firearms　nor　the　cries　of　the　victims　broke　the　peaceful
slumbers　of　M；　le　Prefet　and　M。　le　Commissaire　General　de　la　Police。
But　if　the　civil　authorities　slept；　General　Lagarde；　who　had　shortly
before　come　to　town　to　take　command　of　the　city　in　the　name　of　the
king；　was　awake。　　He　had　sprung　from　his　bed　at　the　first　shot；
dressed　himself；　and　made　a　round　of　the　posts；　then　sure　that
everything　was　in　order；　he　had　formed　patrols　of　chasseurs；　and　had
himself；　accompanied　by　two　officers　only；　gone　wherever　he　heard
cries　for　help。　　But　in　spite　of　the　strictness　of　his　orders　the
small　number　of　troops　at　his　disposition　delayed　the　success　of　his
efforts；　and　it　was　not　until　three　o'clock　in　the　morning　that　he
succeeded　in　securing　Trestaillons。　　When　this　man　was　taken　he　was
dressed　as　usual　in　the　uniform　of　the　National　Guard；　with　a　cocked
hat　and　captain's　epaulets。　　General　Lagarde　ordered　the　gens　d'armes
who　made　the　capture　to　deprive　him　of　his　sword