Waterloo: A sequel to The Conscript of 1813. Erckmann-Chatrian

must let Catherine and Aunt Grédel know immediately," I cried in the joy of my heart; "we must send Chaudron's boy right away."

      "Ha! go yourself, that will be better," said the good man.

      "But the work, Mr. Goulden?"

      "Pshaw! pshaw! at a time like this one forgets work! Go! child, stir yourself, how could you work now? You cannot see clearly."

      It was true I could do nothing. I was so happy that I cried, I embraced Mr. Goulden, and then without taking time to change my coat I set off, and was so absorbed by my happiness, that I had gone far beyond the German gate, the bridge and the outworks and the post station, and it was only when I was within a hundred yards of the village and saw the chimney and the little windows that I recalled it all like a dream, and commenced to read the permit again, repeating, "It is true, yes, it is true; what happiness! what will they say!"

      I reached the house and pushed open the door exclaiming, "The permit!"

      Aunt Grédel in her sabots was just sweeping the kitchen, and Catherine was coming downstairs with her arms bare, and her blue kerchief crossed over her breast; she had been to the garret for chips, and both of them on seeing me and hearing me cry, "the permit!" stood stock still. But I repeated, "the permit!" and Aunt Grédel threw up her hands as I had done, exclaiming, "Long live the King!"

      Catherine, quite pale, was leaning against the side of the staircase; I was at her side in an instant and embraced her so heartily that she leaned on my shoulder and cried, and I carried her down, so to speak, while aunt danced round us, exclaiming, "Long live the King! long live the Minister!"

      There was never anything like it. The old blacksmith, Ruppert, with his leather apron on and his shirt open at the throat, came in to ask what had happened.

      "What is it, neighbor?" said he, as he held his big tongs in his hands and opened his little eyes as wide as possible.

      This calmed us a little, and I answered, "We have received our permit to marry."

      "Ah, that is it? is it? now I understand, I understand."

      He had left the door open and five or six other neighbors came in – Anna Schmoutz, the spinner, Christopher Wagner, the field-guard, Zaphéri Gross, and several others, till the room was full. I read the permit aloud; everybody listened, and when it was finished Catherine began to cry again, and Aunt Grédel said:

      "Joseph, that minister is the best of men. If he were here, I would embrace him and invite him to the wedding; he should have the place of honor next Mr. Goulden."

      Then the women went off to spread the news, and I commenced my declarations anew to Catherine, as if the old ones went for nothing; and I made her repeat a thousand times that she had never loved any one but me, till we cried and laughed, and laughed and cried, one after the other, till night. We heard Aunt Grédel, as she attended to the cooking, talking to herself and saying, "That is what I call a good king;" or, "If my good Franz could come back to the earth he would be happy to-day, but one cannot have everything." She said, also, that the procession had done us good; but Catherine and I were too happy to answer a word. We dined, and lunched, and took supper without seeing or hearing anything, and it was nine o'clock when I suddenly perceived it was time to go home. Catherine and Aunt Grédel and I went out together, the moon was shining brightly, and they went with me to the "Roulette," and while on the way we agreed that the marriage should take place in fifteen days. At the farm-house, under the poplars, aunt kissed me, and I kissed Catherine, and then watched them as they went back to the village. When they reached home they turned and kissed their hands to me, and then I came back to town, crossed the great square, and got home about ten o'clock. Mr. Goulden was awake though in bed, and he heard me open the door softly. I had lighted my lamp and was going to my chamber, when he called, "Joseph!"

      I went to him, and he took me in his arms and we kissed each other, and he said:

      "It is well, my child; you are happy, and you deserve to be. Now go to bed, and to-morrow we will talk about it."

      I went to bed, but it was long before I could sleep soundly. I wakened every moment, thinking, "Is it really true that the permit has come?" Then I would say to myself, "Yes; it is true." But toward morning I slept. When I wakened it was broad day, and I jumped out of bed to dress myself, when Father Goulden called out, as happy as possible, "Come, Joseph, come to breakfast."

      "Forgive me, Mr. Goulden," I replied; "I was so happy I could hardly sleep."

      "Yes, yes, I heard you," he answered and we went into the workshop, where the table was already laid.

      VI

      After the joy of marrying Catherine, my greatest delight was in thinking I should be a tradesman, for there was a great difference between fighting for the King of Prussia and doing business on one's own account. Mr. Goulden had told me he would take me into partnership with him, and I imagined myself taking my little wife to mass and then going for a walk to the Roche-plate or to Bonne-Fontaine. This gave me great pleasure. In the meantime I went every day to see Catherine; she would wait for me in the orchard, while Aunt Grédel prepared the little cakes and the bride's loaf for the wedding. We did nothing but look at each other for hours together; she was so fresh and joyous and grew prettier every day.

      Mr. Goulden would say on seeing me come home happier every night, "Well! Joseph, matters seem to be better than when we were at Leipzig!"

      Sometimes I wanted to go to work again, but he always stopped me by saying, "Oh! pshaw! happy days in life are so few. Go and see Catherine, go! If I should take a fancy to be married by and by, you can work for us both." And then he would laugh. Such men as he ought to live a hundred years, such a good heart! so true and honest! He was a real father to us. And even now, after so many years, when I think of him with his black silk cap drawn over his ears, and his gray beard eight days old, and the little wrinkles about his eyes showing so much good-humor, it seems to me that I still hear his voice and the tears will come in spite of me. But I must tell you here of something which happened before the wedding and which I shall never forget. It was the 6th of July and we were to be married on the 8th. I had dreamed of it all night. I rose between six and seven. Father Goulden was already at work, with the windows open. I was washing my face and thinking I would run over to Quatre Vents, when all at once a bugle and two taps of a drum were heard at the gate of France, just as when a regiment arrives, they try their mouthpieces, and tap their drums just to get the sticks well in hand. When I heard that my hair stood on end, and I exclaimed, "Mr. Goulden, it is the Sixth!"

      "Yes, indeed, for eight days everybody has been talking about it, but you hear nothing in these days. It is the wedding bouquet, Joseph, and I wanted to surprise you."

      I listened no longer, but went downstairs at a jump. Our old drummer Padoue had already lifted his stick under the dark arch, and the drummers came up behind balancing their drums on their hips; in the distance was Gémeau, the commandant, on horseback, the red plumes of the grenadiers and the bayonets came up slowly; it was the Third battalion. The march commenced, and my blood bounded. I recognized at the first glance the long gray cloaks which we had received on the 22d of October, on the glacis at Erfurth; they had become quite green from the snow and wind and rain. It was worse than after the battle of Leipzig. The old shakos were full of ball holes, only the flag was new, in its beautiful case of oil-cloth, with the fleur-de-lis at the end.

      Ah! only those who have made a campaign can realize what it is to see your regiment and to hear the same roll of the drum as when it is in front of the enemy, and to say to yourself, "There are your comrades, who return beaten, humiliated, and crushed, bowing their heads under another cockade." No! I never felt anything like it. Later many of the men of the Sixth came and settled down at Pfalzbourg, they were my old officers, old sergeants, and were always welcome, there was Laflèche, Carabin, Lavergne, Monyot, Padoue, Chazi, and many others. Those who commanded me during the war sawed wood for me, put on tiles, were my carpenters and masons. After giving me orders they obeyed me, for I was independent, and had business, while they were simply laborers. But that was nothing, and I always treated my old chiefs with respect, I always thought, "at Weissenfels, at Lutzen, and at Leipzig, these men who now are forced to labor so hard to support themselves and their families, represented at the front the honor and