I
A SOUTHERN ASSIGNMENT
Sunday, the sixth of June, 1903, broke the monotony of the life thatwe were leading at the Post of Hassi-Inifel by two events of unequalimportance, the arrival of a letter from Mlle. de C----, and thelatest numbers of the Official Journal of the French Republic.
"I have the Lieutenant's permission?" said Sergeant Chatelain,beginning to glance through the magazines he had just removed fromtheir wrappings.
I acquiesced with a nod, already completely absorbed in reading Mlle.de C----'s letter.
"When this reaches you," was the gist of this charming being's letter,"mama and I will doubtless have left Paris for the country. If, inyour distant parts, it might be a consolation to imagine me as boredhere as you possibly can be, make the most of it. The Grand Prix isover. I played the horse you pointed out to me, and naturally, I lost.Last night we dined with the Martials de la Touche. Elias Chatrian wasthere, always amazingly young. I am sending you his last book, whichhas made quite a sensation. It seems that the Martials de la Toucheare depicted there without disguise. I will add to it Bourget's last,and Loti's, and France's, and two or three of the latest music hallhits. In the political word, they say the law about congregations willmeet with strenuous opposition. Nothing much in the theatres. I havetaken out a summer subscription for _l'Illustration_. Would you carefor it? In the country no one knows what to do. Always the same lot ofidiots ready for tennis. I shall deserve no credit for writing to youoften. Spare me your reflections concerning young Combemale. I am lessthan nothing of a feminist, having too much faith in those who tell methat I am pretty, in yourself in particular. But indeed, I grow wildat the idea that if I permitted myself half the familiarities with oneof our lads that you have surely with your Ouled-Nails.... Enough ofthat, it is too unpleasant an idea."
I had reached this point in the prose of this advanced young womanwhen a scandalized exclamation of the Sergeant made me look up.
"Lieutenant!"
"Yes?"
"They are up to something at the Ministry. See for yourself."
He handed me the Official. I read:
"By a decision of the first of May, 1903, Captain de Saint-Avit(Andre), unattached, is assigned to the Third Spahis, and appointedCommandant of the Post of Hassi-Inifel."
Chatelain's displeasure became fairly exuberant.
"Captain de Saint-Avit, Commandant of the Post. A post which has neverhad a slur upon it. They must take us for a dumping ground."
My surprise was as great as the Sergeant's. But just then I saw theevil, weasel-like face of Gourrut, the convict we used as clerk. Hehad stopped his scrawling and was listening with a sly interest.
"Sergeant, Captain de Saint-Avit is my ranking classmate," I answereddryly.
Chatelain saluted, and left the room. I followed.
"There, there," I said, clapping him on the back, "no hard feelings.Remember that in an hour we are starting for the oasis. Have thecartridges ready. It is of the utmost importance to restock thelarder."
I went back to the office and motioned Gourrut to go. Left alone, Ifinished Mlle. de C----'s letter very quickly, and then reread thedecision of the Ministry giving the post a new chief.
It was now five months that I had enjoyed that distinction, and on myword, I had accepted the responsibility well enough, and been verywell pleased with the independence. I can even affirm, without takingtoo much credit for myself, that under my command discipline had beenbetter maintained than under Captain Dieulivol, Saint-Avit'spredecessor. A brave man, this Captain Dieulivol, a non-commissionedofficer under Dodds and Duchesne, but subject to a terrible propensityfor strong liquors, and too much inclined, when he had drunk, toconfuse his dialects, and to talk to a Houassa in Sakalave. No one wasever more sparing of the post water supply. One morning when he waspreparing his absinthe in the presence of the Sergeant, Chatelain,noticing the Captain's glass, saw with amazement that the green liquorwas blanched by a far stronger admixture of water than usual. Helooked up, aware that something abnormal had just occurred. Rigid, thecarafe inverted in his hand, Captain Dieulivol was spilling the waterwhich was running over on the sugar. He was dead.
For six months, since the disappearance of this sympathetic oldtippler, the Powers had not seemed to interest themselves in findinghis successor. I had even hoped at times that a decision might bereached investing me with the rights that I was in fact exercising....And today this surprising appointment.
Captain de Saint-Avit. He was of my class at St. Cyr. I had lost trackof him. Then my attention had been attracted to him by his rapidadvancement, his decoration, the well-deserved recognition of threeparticularly daring expeditions of exploration to Tebesti and the Air;and suddenly, the mysterious drama of his fourth expedition, thatfamous mission undertaken with Captain Morhange, from which only oneof the explorers came back. Everything is forgotten quickly in France.That was at least six years ago. I had not heard Saint-Avit mentionedsince. I had even supposed that he had left the army. And now, I wasto have him as my chief.
"After all, what's the difference," I mused, "he or another! At schoolhe was charming, and we have had only the most pleasant relationships.Besides, I haven't enough yearly income to afford the rank ofCaptain."
And I left the office, whistling as I went.
* * * * *
We were now, Chatelain and I, our guns resting on the already coolingearth, beside the pool that forms the center of the meager oasis,hidden behind a kind of hedge of alfa. The setting sun was reddeningthe stagnant ditches which irrigate the poor garden plots of thesedentary blacks.
Not a word during the approach. Not a word during the shoot. Chatelainwas obviously sulking.
In silence we knocked down, one after the other, several of themiserable doves which came on dragging wings, heavy with the heat ofthe day, to quench their thirst at the thick green water. When ahalf-dozen slaughtered little bodies were lined up at our feet I putmy hand on the Sergeant's shoulder.
"Chatelain!"
He trembled.
"Chatelain, I was rude to you a little while ago. Don't be angry. Itwas the bad time before the siesta. The bad time of midday."
"The Lieutenant is master here," he answered in a tone that was meantto be gruff, but which was only strained.
"Chatelain, don't be angry. You have something to say to me. You knowwhat I mean."
"I don't know really. No, I don't know."
"Chatelain, Chatelain, why not be sensible? Tell me something aboutCaptain de Saint-Avit."
"I know nothing." He spoke sharply.
"Nothing? Then what were you saying a little while ago?"
"Captain de Saint-Avit is a brave man." He muttered the words with hishead still obstinately bent. "He went alone to Bilma, to the Air,quite alone to those places where no one had ever been. He is a braveman."
"He is a brave man, undoubtedly," I answered with great restraint."But he murdered his companion, Captain Morhange, did he not?"
The old Sergeant trembled.
"He is a brave man," he persisted.
"Chatelain, you are a child. Are you afraid that I am going to repeatwhat you say to your new Captain?"
I had touched him to the quick. He drew himself up.
"Sergeant Chatelain is afraid of no one, Lieutenant. He has been atAbomey, against the Amazons, in a country where a black arm startedout from every bush to seize your leg, while another cut it off foryou with one blow of a cutlass."
"Then what they say, what you yourself--"
"That is talk."
"Talk which is repeated in France, Chatelain, everywhere."
He bent his head still lower without replying.
"Ass," I burst out, "will you speak?"
"Lieutenant, Lieutenant," he fairly pled, "I swear that what I know,or nothing--"
"What you know you are going to tell me, and right away. If not, Igive you my word of honor that, for a month, I shall not speak to youexcept on official business
."
Hassi-Inifel: thirty native Arabs and four Europeans--myself, theSergeant, a Corporal, and Gourrut. The threat was terrible. It had itseffect.
"All right, then, Lieutenant," he said with a great sigh. "Butafterwards you must not blame me for having told you things about asuperior which should not be told and come only from the talk Ioverheard at mess."
"Tell away."
"It was in 1899. I was then Mess Sergeant at Sfax, with the 4thSpahis. I had a good record, and besides, as I did not drink, theAdjutant had assigned me to the officers' mess. It was a soft berth.The marketing, the accounts, recording the library books which wereborrowed (there weren't many), and the key of the wine cupboard,--forwith that you can't trust orderlies. The Colonel was young and dinedat mess. One evening he came in late, looking perturbed, and, as soonas he was seated, called for silence:
"'Gentlemen,' he said, 'I have a communication to make to you, and Ishall ask for your advice. Here is the question. Tomorrow morning the_City of Naples_ lands at Sfax. Aboard her is Captain de Saint-Avit,recently assigned to Feriana, en route to his post.'
"The Colonel paused. 'Good,' thought I, 'tomorrow's menu is about tobe considered.' For you know the custom, Lieutenant, which has existedever since there have been any officers' clubs in Africa. When anofficer is passing by, his comrades go to meet him at the boat andinvite him to remain with them for the length of his stay in port. Hepays his score in news from home. On such occasions everything is ofthe best, even for a simple lieutenant. At Sfax an officer on a visitmeant--one extra course, vintage wine and old liqueurs.
"But this time I imagined from the looks the officers exchanged thatperhaps the old stock would stay undisturbed in its cupboard.
"'You have all, I think, heard of Captain de Saint-Avit, gentlemen,and the rumors about him. It is not for us to inquire into them, andthe promotion he has had, his decoration if you will, permits us tohope that they are without foundation. But between not suspecting anofficer of being a criminal, and receiving him at our table as acomrade, there is a gulf that we are not obliged to bridge. That isthe matter on which I ask your advice.'
"There was silence. The officers looked at each other, all of themsuddenly quite grave, even to the merriest of the second lieutenants.In the corner, where I realized that they had forgotten me, I triednot to make the least sound that might recall my presence.
"'We thank you, Colonel,' one of the majors finally replied, 'for yourcourtesy in consulting us. All my comrades, I imagine, know to whatterrible rumors you refer. If I may venture to say so, in Paris at theArmy Geographical Service, where I was before coming here, most of theofficers of the highest standing had an opinion on this unfortunatematter which they avoided stating, but which cast no glory uponCaptain de Saint-Avit.'
"'I was at Bammako, at the time of the Morhange-Saint-Avit mission,'said a Captain. 'The opinion of the officers there, I am sorry to say,differed very little from what the Major describes. But I must addthat they all admitted that they had nothing but suspicions to go on.And suspicions are certainly not enough considering the atrocity ofthe affair.'
"'They are quite enough, gentlemen,' replied the Colonel, 'to accountfor our hesitation. It is not a question of passing judgment; but noman can sit at our table as a matter of right. It is a privilege basedon fraternal esteem. The only question is whether it is your decisionto accord it to Saint-Avit.'
"So saying, he looked at the officers, as if he were taking a rollcall. One after another they shook their heads.
"'I see that we agree,' he said. 'But our task is unfortunately notyet over. The _City of Naples_ will be in port tomorrow morning. Thelaunch which meets the passengers leaves at eight o'clock. It will benecessary, gentlemen, for one of you to go aboard. Captain deSaint-Avit might be expecting to come to us. We certainly have nointention of inflicting upon him the humiliation of refusing him, ifhe presented himself in expectation of the customary reception. Hemust be prevented from coming. It will be wisest to make himunderstand that it is best for him to stay aboard.'
"The Colonel looked at the officers again. They could not but agree.But how uncomfortable each one looked!
"'I cannot hope to find a volunteer among you for this kind ofmission, so I am compelled to appoint some one. Captain Grandjean,Captain de Saint-Avit is also a Captain. It is fitting that it be anofficer of his own rank who carries him our message. Besides, you arethe latest comer here. Therefore it is to you that I entrust thispainful interview. I do not need to suggest that you conduct it asdiplomatically as possible.'
"Captain Grandjean bowed, while a sigh of relief escaped from all theothers. As long as the Colonel stayed in the room Grandjean remainedapart, without speaking. It was only after the chief had departed thathe let fall the words: "'There are some things that ought to count agood deal for promotion.'
"The next day at luncheon everyone was impatient for his return.
"'Well?' demanded the Colonel, briefly.
"Captain Grandjean did not reply immediately. He sat down at the tablewhere his comrades were mixing their drinks, and he, a man notoriousfor sobriety, drank almost at a gulp, without waiting for the sugar tomelt, a full glass of absinthe.
"'Well, Captain?' repeated the Colonel.
"'Well, Colonel, it's done. You can be at ease. He will not set foot onshore. But, ye gods, what an ordeal!'
"The officers did not dare speak. Only their looks expressed theiranxious curiosity.
"Captain Grandjean poured himself a swallow of water.
"'You see, I had gotten my speech all ready, in the launch. But as Iwent up the ladder I knew that I had forgotten it. Saint-Avit was inthe smoking-room, with the Captain of the boat. It seemed to me that Icould never find the strength to tell him, when I saw him all ready togo ashore. He was in full dress uniform, his sabre lay on the benchand he was wearing spurs. No one wears spurs on shipboard. I presentedmyself and we exchanged several remarks, but I must have seemedsomewhat strained for from the first moment I knew that he sensedsomething. Under some pretext he left the Captain, and led me aft nearthe great rudder wheel. There, I dared speak. Colonel, what did I say?How I must have stammered! He did not look at me. Leaning his elbowson the railing he let his eyes wander far off, smiling slightly. Then,of a sudden, when I was well tangled up in explanations, he looked atme coolly and said:
"'I must thank you, my dear fellow, for having given yourself so muchtrouble. But it is quite unnecessary. I am out of sorts and have nointention of going ashore. At least, I have the pleasure of havingmade your acquaintance. Since I cannot profit by your hospitality, youmust do me the favor of accepting mine as long as the launch stays bythe vessel.'
"Then we went back to the smoking-room. He himself mixed thecocktails. He talked to me. We discovered that we had mutualacquaintances. Never shall I forget that face, that ironic and distantlook, that sad and melodious voice. Ah! Colonel, gentlemen, I don'tknow what they may say at the Geographic Office, or in the posts ofthe Soudan.... There can be nothing in it but a horrible suspicion.Such a man, capable of such a crime,--believe me, it is not possible.
"That is all, Lieutenant," finished Chatelain, after a silence. "Ihave never seen a sadder meal than that one. The officers hurriedthrough lunch without a word being spoken, in an atmosphere ofdepression against which no one tried to struggle. And in thiscomplete silence, you could see them always furtively watching the_City of Naples_, where she was dancing merrily in the breeze, aleague from shore.
"She was still there in the evening when they assembled for dinner,and it was not until a blast of the whistle, followed by curls ofsmoke escaping from the red and black smokestack had announced thedeparture of the vessel for Gabes, that conversation was resumed; andeven then, less gaily than usual.
"After that, Lieutenant, at the Officers' Club at Sfax, they avoidedlike the plague any subject which risked leading the conversation backto Captain de Saint-Avit."
Chatelain had spoken almost in a whisper, and the little people of thedese
rt had not heard this singular history. It was an hour since wehad fired our last cartridge. Around the pool the turtle doves, oncemore reassured, were bathing their feathers. Mysterious great birdswere flying under the darkening palm trees. A less warm wind rockedthe trembling black palm branches. We had laid aside our helmets sothat our temples could welcome the touch of the feeble breeze.
"Chatelain," I said, "it is time to go back to the bordj."
Slowly we picked up the dead doves. I felt the Sergeant looking at mereproachfully, as if regretting that he had spoken. Yet during all thetime that our return trip lasted, I could not find the strength tobreak our desolate silence with a single word.
The night had almost fallen when we arrived. The flag whichsurmounted the post was still visible, drooping on its standard, butalready its colors were indistinguishable. To the west the sun haddisappeared behind the dunes gashed against the black violet of thesky.
When we had crossed the gate of the fortifications, Chatelain left me.
"I am going to the stables," he said.
I returned alone to that part of the fort where the billets for theEuropeans and the stores of ammunition were located. An inexpressiblesadness weighed upon me.
I thought of my comrades in French garrisons. At this hour they mustbe returning home to find awaiting them, spread out upon the bed,their dress uniform, their braided tunic, their sparkling epaulettes.
"Tomorrow," I said to myself, "I shall request a change of station."
The stairway of hard-packed earth was already black. But a few gleamsof light still seemed palely prowling in the office when I entered.
A man was sitting at my desk, bending over the files of orders. Hisback was toward me. He did not hear me enter.
"Really, Gourrut, my lad, I beg you not to disturb yourself. Makeyourself completely at home."
The man had risen, and I saw him to be quite tall, slender and verypale.
"Lieutenant Ferrieres, is it not?"
He advanced, holding out his hand.
"Captain de Saint-Avit. Delighted, my dear fellow."
At the same time Chatelain appeared on the threshold.
"Sergeant," said the newcomer, "I cannot congratulate you on thelittle I have seen. There is not a camel saddle which is not in wantof buckles, and they are rusty enough to suggest that it rains atHassi-Inifel three hundred days in the year. Furthermore, where wereyou this afternoon? Among the four Frenchmen who compose the post, Ifound only on my arrival one convict, opposite a quart of eau-de-vie.We will change all that, I hope. At ease."
"Captain," I said, and my voice was colorless, while Chatelainremained frozen at attention, "I must tell you that the Sergeant waswith me, that it is I who am responsible for his absence from thepost, that he is an irreproachable non-commissioned officer from everypoint of view, and that if we had been warned of your arrival--"
"Evidently," he said, with a coldly ironical smile. "Also, Lieutenant,I have no intention of holding him responsible for the negligenceswhich attach to your office. He is not obliged to know that theofficer who abandons a post like Hassi-Inifel, if it is only for twohours, risks not finding much left on his return. The Chaambabrigands, my dear sir, love firearms, and for the sake of the sixtymuskets in your racks, I am sure they would not scruple to make anofficer, whose otherwise excellent record is well known to me, accountfor his absence to a court-martial. Come with me, if you please. Wewill finish the little inspection I began too rapidly a little whileago."
He was already on the stairs. I followed in his footsteps. Chatelainclosed the order of march. I heard him murmuring, in a tone which youcan imagine:
"Well, we are in for it now!"