In the morning they all returned. Two soldiers
had been killed, and three others wounded by their
comrades in the ardor of that chase, and in the confusion
of such a nocturnal pursuit, but they had not caught
Rachel.
Then the inhabitants of the district were terrorized,
the houses were turned topsy-turvy, the country was
scoured and beaten up, over and over again, but the
Jewess did not seem to have left a single trace of
her passage behind her.
When the general was told of it, he gave orders to
hush up the affair, so as not to set a bad example
to the army, but he severely censured the commandant,
who in turned punished his inferiors. The general
had said: “One does not go to war in order
to amuse oneself, and to caress prostitutes.”
And Graf von Farlsberg, in his exasperation, made up
his mind to have his revenge on the district, but
as he required a pretext for showing severity, he
sent for the priest, and ordered him to have the bell
tolled at the funeral of Baron von Eyrick.
Contrary to all expectation, the priest showed himself
humble and most respectful, and when Mademoiselle
Fifi’s body left the Chateau d’Ville on
its way to the cemetery, carried by soldiers, preceded,
surrounded, and followed by soldiers, who marched
with loaded rifles, for the first time, the bell sounded
its funereal knell in a lively manner, as if a friendly
hand were caressing it. At night it sounded again,
and the next day, and every day; it rang as much as
any one could desire. Sometimes even, it would
start at night, and sound gently through the darkness,
seized by strange joy, awakened, one could not tell
why. All the peasants in the neighborhood declared
that it was bewitched, and nobody, except the priest
and the sacristan would now go near the church tower,
and they went because a poor girl was living there
in grief and solitude, and secretly nourished by those
two men.
She remained there until the German troops departed,
and then one evening the priest borrowed the baker’s
cart, and himself drove his prisoner to Rouen.
When they got there, he embraced her, and she quickly
went back on foot to the establishment from which she
had come, where the proprietress, who thought that
she was dead, was very glad to see her.
A short time afterwards, a patriot who had no prejudices,
and who liked her because of her bold deed, and who
afterwards loved her for herself, married her, and
made a lady of her, who was quite as good as many
others.
As the weather was very fine, the people on the farm
had dined more speedily than usual, and had returned
to the fields.
The female servant, Rose, remained alone in the large
kitchen, where the fire on the hearth was dying out,
under the large boiler of hot water. From time
to time she took some water out of it, and slowly washed
her plates and dishes, stopping occasionally to look
at the two streaks of light which the sun threw onto
the long table through the window, and which showed
the defects in the glass.
