They looked to the wounded. Among the villagers there were only a few teeth knocked out, a few ribs broken and a few slight bruises and scars. But it was very different with the soldiers. They were seriously injured: the giant whose eyes had been burned had had his shoulder half cut off with a hatchet; the man whose belly had been pierced was dying; and there was the officer who had been knocked down by Christophe. They were laid out by the hearth. The officer, who was the least injured of the three, had just opened his eyes. He took a long look at the ring of peasants leaning over him, a look filled with hatred. Hardly had he regained consciousness of what had happened than he began to abuse them. He swore that he would be avenged and would settle their hash, the whole lot of them; he choked with rage; it was palpable that if he could he would exterminate them. They tried to laugh, but their laughter was forced. A young peasant shouted to the wounded man:
“Hold your gab or I’ll kill you.”
The officer tried to get up, and he glared at the man who had just spoken to him with bloodshot eyes:
“Swine!” he said. “Kill me! They’ll cut your heads off.”
He went on shouting. The man who had been ripped up screamed like a bleeding pig. The third was stiff and still like a dead man. A crushing terror came over the peasants. Lorchen and some women carried the wounded men to another room. The shouts of the officer and the screams of the dying man died away. The peasants were silent; they stood fixed in the circle as though the three bodies were still lying at their feet; they dared not budge and looked at each other in panic. At last Lorchen’s father said:
“You have done a fine piece of work!”
There was an agonized murmuring; their throats were dry. Then they began all to talk at once. At first they whispered as though they were afraid of eavesdroppers, but soon they raised their voices and became more vehement; they accused each other; they blamed each other for the blows they had struck. The dispute became acrid; they seemed to be on the point of going for each other. Lorchen’s father brought them to unanimity. With his arms folded he turned towards Christophe and jerked his chin at him:
“And,” he said, “what business had this fellow here?”
The wrath of the rabble was turned on Christophe:
“True! True!” they cried. “He began it! But for him nothing would have happened.”
Christophe was amazed. He tried to reply:
“You know perfectly that what I did was for you, not for myself.”
But they replied furiously:
“Aren’t we capable of defending ourselves? Do you think we need a gentleman from the town to tell us what we should do? Who asked your advice? And besides who asked you to come? Couldn’t you stay at home?”
Christophe shrugged his shoulders and turned towards the door. But Lorchen’s father barred the way, screaming:
“That’s it! That’s it!” he shouted. “He would like to cut away now after getting us all into a scrape. He shan’t go!”
The peasants roared:
“He shan’t go! He’s the cause of it all. He shall pay for it all!”
They surrounded him and shook their fists at him. Christophe saw the circle of threatening faces closing in upon him; fear had infuriated them. He said nothing, made a face of disgust, threw his hat on the table, went and sat at the end of the room, and turned his back on them.
But Lorchen was angry and flung herself at the peasants. Her pretty face was red and scowling with rage. She pushed back the people who were crowding round Christophe:
“Cowards! Brute beasts!” she cried. “Aren’t you ashamed? You want to pretend that he brought it all on you! As if they did not see you all! As if there was a single one of you who had not hit out his hand as he could! … If there had been a man who had stayed with his arms folded while the others were fighting I would spit in his face and call him: Coward! Coward! …”
The peasants, surprised by this unexpected outburst, stayed for a moment in silence; they began to shout again:
“He began it! Nothing would have happened but for him.”
In vain did Lorchen’s father make signs to his daughter. She went on:
“Yes. He did begin it! That is nothing for you to boast about. But for him you would have let them insult you. You would have let them insult you. You cowards! You funks!”
She abused her partner:
“And you, you said nothing. Your heart was in your mouth; you held out your bottom to be kicked. You would have thanked them for it! Aren’t you ashamed? … Aren’t you all ashamed? You are not men! You’re as brave as sheep with your noses to the ground all the time! He had to give you an example!—And now you want to make him bear everything? … Well, I tell you, that shan’t happen! He fought for us. Either you save him or you’ll suffer along with him. I give you my word for it!”
Lorchen’s father caught her arm. He was beside himself and shouted:
“Shut up! Shut up! … Will you shut up, you bitch!”
But she thrust him away and went on again. The peasants yelled. She shouted louder than they in a shrill, piercing scream:
“What have you to say to it
