Waterloo; A Sequel to 'The Conscript', Tr. from the Fr. of M. Erckmann Chatrian (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1865 edition. Excerpt: ...world, that are at stake. I would I were twenty years younger, to accompany you and set you the example." We went down without making any noise; we embraced each other, and I reached the barracks. Zebede himself led me to the soldiers' room, where I put on my uniform. All that I can still recall after so many years is that the father of Zebe'de, who was there, made a bundle of my clothes, saying that he would go to my house after our departure, and that then the battalion denled through the by-street of Lanche, through the French gate. Some children followed us. The soldiers of the corps de garde, at the advanced works, presented arms. We were on our way to Waterloo. CHAPTER XV. At Sarrebourg we received our billets. Mine was on the old painter Jarcisse, who knew M. Goulden and Aunt Gredel; he made me dine at his table with my new room-mate, Jean Buche, the son of a sledge-maker of Harberg, who had never eaten anything but potatoes before he became a conscript. He gnawed the meat which was served us to the very bone. For my part, I was so melancholy that merely to hear the bones gnawed went through my nerves. Father Jarcisse tried to console me, but all that he said only increased my sorrow. We passed the rest of that day and the following night at Sarrebourg. Next day we were marching to the village of Mezieres, the day after to Vic, and then to Sologne; on the fifth day we were approaching Metz. I need not relate our march to you; soldiers all white with dust going on from stage to stage, their knapsacks on their backs, their arms sloped, talking, laughing, passing through the villages, looking at the girls, carts, dunghills, sheds, ascents and descents, without troubling themselves about anything. And when one is sorrowful--having left at home...