The officer muttered between his teeth:
"Before everything, let us settle this affair!"
And with his own hand pushing Dominique against the wall of a shed he
ordered his men to fire. When Francoise looked Dominique lay upon the
ground with blood streaming from his neck and shoulders.
She did not weep; she stood stupefied. Her eyes grew fixed, and she
sat down under the shed, a few paces from the body. She stared at it,
wringing her hands. The Prussians had seized Pere Merlier as a hostage.
It was a stirring combat. The officer had rapidly posted his men,
comprehending that he could not beat a retreat without being cut to
pieces. Hence he would fight to the last. Now the Prussians defended
the mill, and the French attacked it. The fusillade began with unusual
violence. For half an hour it did not cease. Then a hollow sound was
heard, and a ball broke a main branch of the old elm. The French had
cannon. A battery, stationed just above the ditch in which Dominique had
hidden himself, swept the wide street of Rocreuse. The struggle could
not last long.
Ah, the poor mill! Balls pierced it in every part. Half of the roof was
carried away. Two walls were battered down. But it was on the side of
the Morelle that the destruction was most lamentable.
Pages:
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823