The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1875-05-04
The Story of a Frenchman Hunted by the
Germans.
CHAPTER Y.

worth to us peasants; with a COW in the barn,
one has milk, butter, cheese, all the necessa-
ries of life; one cow is a competency, two are
almost wealth. All along we had been able
to sell, and make few pennies; now we
must buy everything in these times of search
tv. All! what frightful pass! Those who
come after us will never have even an idea of
it. There remained now only few thou
sand pounds of hay, and some potatoes.
Ykel, who was interested in all our troubles,
said to me during the day,
''Listen, Brgader, that which 1 predicted
has come to pass. These Germans are vexed
to death with you because you refused to ac-
cept their service, and because your son-in-
law has Joined the republicans. If they could,
they would hunt and even exterminate you.
They will do it, but they will give it the APP
pearance of justice and honor; that is the
reason why they will take away even your
last shirt, in order to compel you to leave, as
they say of your own free will! Listen to
me, and get rid of your forage as soon as pos
sible, for one of these fine mornings they
will come and take it, saying that as you
have no cows, you have no need of hay; and
above all do not repeat my advice"
1 knew what he said was true. The next
Gay my hay-loft was empty. All the neigh
bors came in the evening and took away my
hay in bundles. In this way l had few
francs in reserve. Starck gave up one of his
goats, which rendered US great service.
Grandmother had little milk morning and
evening, which prolonged her life; but after
so many shocks the poor old woman was very
feeble; she trembled like leaf, and did not
leave her bed, always dreaming, murmurng
her prayers, talking of Bruat, her husband,
of the grandfather Duchene, of all the old
friends who came to her memory. Marie
Rose spun near her, and watched her at
night, listening to her painful breathing and
laments,
!, alone in room on one side, near the
little windows against which the snow was
piled up, my legs crossed, and the fire in the
pipe between my teeth, extinct, thinking of
all the hardshps, thefts and denominations
which followed US week by week, began to
lose my confidence in God. Yes, it is sad to
think, but overwhelmed by suffering, said
to myself that men resemble very much
sheep, geese, and turkeys, destined for the
food of wolves, foxes, and wildcats who
amuse themselves at their expense, and 1 al
most said to myself that our sainted religion
had been invented by evil spirits in order to
console the weak who are the prey of the
strong.
But the worst of it was that the news OF
the interior was becoming worse. A Ger
man picket-party coming from Wechem in
order to take my fodder, found the place va
cant. They were angry and demanded what
had become of the forage. l answered that
the cows of the cantonnier had eaten it up.
My goat fortunately was with those of Starck
or they would have carried that off. These
brawlers went into the auberge, telling that
the republicans had been beaten; thousands
had been left dead on the battle fields, that
they had been repulsed at Orleans, and were
still retreating.
AS for Jean, no letters, no news. What
had become of him? This question came
often to me and troubled me. was careful
not to speak of it before Marie Rose. Her
pallor warned me that the same thought fol-
lowed her.
1t was in December. For some time past
the cannon at Phalsbourg had been silent.
The report was current that flames had been
seen rising suddenly in the night from the
ramparts. What could that mean? We
learned afterward that they were burning the
powder, breaking up the artillery, and spik-
ing their guns, because their food was eX-
hausted, and they must soon surrender.
This disaster came the 18th of December,
after six commandments and siego of 120
days. Half of the city was in ruins, and in
the single bombardmentof August 18th $500
shells had destroyed entire streets. The poor
people who rushed into the city for protection
in the hot season with their blouses on their
backs, and shoes on their feet, after having
passed the hard winter on the ramparts, were
carrid as prisoners of war, some to Radstadt,
and others into Prussia in the middle of win
ter. At this news, CONSERVATION spread every
where. So long as the cannon of Phalsbourg
had thudered we were courageous, saying
from time to time, "France still speaks )"
but silence soon told US that the Germans
were masters in our homes, and that slight
pretext would be sufficient 10 draw down their
vengeance. To crown our misfortunes the
sickness of grandmother increased. One
morning on going into her room, Marie Rose
said in low voice, 'Father, Grandmother
is very ill, she does not sleep, she is pressed
for breath, you must so for physician"
"You are right my child. We Lave de-
layed too long already" and in spite of grief
at seeing the old walls of our fortress in the
power of the enemy, resolved to go to
Phalsbourg to find a physician. 1t was a
cloudy, muddy day. went along the hill
above the path, bowed down and so absent
minded, and responding. that I would have
given my life for nothing.
Upon the ridge of Biegelberg, coming out
of the forest, seeing in the distance before me
the little city in ruins, under the leaden sky,
its houses burned, its church destroyed, its
ramparts dismantled, 1 stopped for mo-
ment recalling the past. How many times
during these twenty-five years had gone on
Sunday and fast days, with my wife Catherine
and my daughter, to assist in tie service, to
go 10 the fair, or to shake hands with some
old comrade, laughing, happy, thinking that
every thing would move on thus, and to the
end of my life! and all these joys departed ;
the old friends who in their little gardens at
the foot of the hill called us to come and
gather currants, or make bouquet, seemed to
i've again! What memories came back to
me! said to myself:
"Ohl how far away all these things are
Oh who would have ever thought that such
misfortune could come to us, we Frenchmen
we Alsatians, to bow our heads to the Prus.
slams" My eyes grew din, and 1 returned to
the path, murmuring in my heart the conso-
lation of the miserable. 'Bah! life is short.
Soon, Frederic, all will be forgotten. Take
courage, you have not long to suffer. Is there
any need to picture to you the desolation of
this poor Phalsbourg, formerly 50 clean, its lit
tie houses so well kept, the great square so
bright on the days of review? Shall. / tell
you OF houses in ruins one upon another
gables overturned, chimneys standing in the
midst of the ruins, and all the inns fulI of