The militia companies themselves were not recognized as
belligerents. By thus making terrible examples of the peasants who
defended their homes, the Germans hoped to prevent the levy en masse,
which they feared.
The officer, a tall, lean man of fifty, briefly questioned Dominique.
Although he spoke remarkably pure French he had a stiffness altogether
Prussian.
"Do you belong to this district?" he asked.
"No; I am a Belgian," answered the young man.
"Why then did you take up arms? The fighting did not concern you!"
Dominique made no reply. At that moment the officer saw Francoise who
was standing by, very pale, listening; upon her white forehead her
slight wound had put a red bar. He looked at the young folks, one after
the other, seemed to understand matters and contented himself with
adding:
"You do not deny having fired, do you?"
"I fired as often as I could!" responded Dominique tranquilly.
This confession was useless, for he was black with powder, covered with
sweat and stained with a few drops of blood which had flowed from the
scratch on his shoulder.
"Very well," said the officer. "You will be shot in two hours!"
Francoise did not cry out. She clasped her hands and raised them with a
gesture of mute despair.
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