He must
have perceived the head of a Prussian, for he arose quickly and brought
his weapon to his shoulder, but before he could fire he uttered a cry,
fell and rolled into the ditch, where for an instant his legs twitched
convulsively like the claws of a chicken just killed. The little soldier
had received a ball full in the breast. He was the first man slain.
Instinctively Francoise seized Dominique's hand and clasped it with a
nervous contraction.
"Move away," said the captain. "You are within range of the balls."
At that moment a sharp little thud was heard in the old elm, and a
fragment of a branch came whirling down. But the two young folks did not
stir; they were nailed to the spot by anxiety to see what was going on.
On the edge of the wood a Prussian had suddenly come out from behind a
tree as from a theater stage entrance, beating the air with his hands
and falling backward. Nothing further moved; the two corpses seemed
asleep in the broad sunlight; not a living soul was seen in the
scorching country. Even the crack of the fusillade had ceased. The
Morelle alone whispered in its clear tones.
Pere Merlier looked at the captain with an air of surprise, as if to ask
him if the struggle was over.
Pages:
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789