Suddenly the train slowed and stopped at the station of a little town, and a Prussian officer mounted the double step of the carriage with a noisy clattering of his sabre. He was tall, tightly buttoned into his uniform, and bearded to the eyes. His ruddy skin looked as though it were on fire, and his long moustaches, of a paler tone, streamed out on either side of his face, bisecting it.
The English pair promptly began to stare at him with smiles of satisfied curiosity, while M. Dubuis pretended to read a paper. He sat huddled in his corner, like a thief in the presence of a policeman.
The train started again. The Englishmen continued to talk and look for the exact sites of the battles; and suddenly, as one of them was extending his arm towards the horizon in order to point out a village, the Prussian officer remarked in French, stretching out his long legs and lounging forward till he reclined on his back:
“I haf gilled ten Frenchmen in that fillage. I haf took more than von hondred brisoners.”
The Englishmen, deeply interested, at once asked:
“Oh! What is the name of the village?”
“Pharsbourg,” replied the Prussian, and continued:
“I took those rrascal Frenchmen by the ears.”
He stared at M. Dubuis, and laughed insolently in his beard.
The train ran on, still passing through occupied hamlets. The German soldiers were to be seen along the roads, at the side of the fields, standing at the corners of fences, or chatting in front of the inns. They covered the earth like locusts.
The officer stretched out his hand:
“If I had peen gommander, I vould haf taken Paris, and burnt eferything, and killed eferypody. No more France.”
The Englishmen, out of politeness, replied simply:
“Oh, yes.”
“In tventy years,” he went on, “all Europe, all, vill pelong to us. Prussia stronger than all!”
The Englishmen, uneasy, made no reply. Their faces, grown impassive, looked like wax between their long whiskers. Then the Prussian officer began to laugh. And, still reclining on his back, he bragged. He bragged of the crushing of France, he trod down his enemies to the ground; he bragged of the recent conquest of Austria; he bragged about the powerless yet frantic efforts of the provinces to defend themselves, about the transport and the useless artillery. He declared that Bismarck was going to build an iron town out of the captured cannon.
And suddenly he thrust his boots against the thigh of M. Dubuis, who turned away his eyes, scarlet to the ears.
The Englishmen appeared to have become uninterested in everything, as though they had found themselves suddenly shut up in their island, far from the noises of the world.
The officer took out his pipe and, gazing fixedly at the Frenchman, asked:
“You haf no tobacco?”
“No, monsieur,” replied M. Dubuis.
“Blease go and buy some when the drain stops.”
And he burst out laughing again.
“I vill gif you a tip.”
The train whistled and slowed down. It passed the burnt-out buildings of a station; then stopped altogether.
The German opened the door and took M. Dubuis by the arm:
“Go and do the errand for me, quickly!” he said.
A Prussian detachment occupied the station. Other soldiers stared, standing along the wooden fence. The engine was already whistling for dedeparture. Then, suddenly, M. Dubuis rushed out on to the platform, and, despite the violent gestures of the stationmaster, dashed into the next compartment.
He was alone! He unbuttoned his waistcoat, so violently was his heart beating, and wiped his forehead, panting.
The train stopped again at a station. And suddenly the officer appeared at the door and got in, soon followed by the two Englishmen, drawn by their curiosity. The German sat down opposite the Frenchman, and, still laughing, said:
“You did not vish to do my errand.”
“No, monsieur,” replied M. Dubuis.
The train had just started again.
“I vill gut off your moustache to fill my pipe,” said the officer, and thrust out his hand to his neighbour’s face.
The Englishmen, still impassive, watched with their steady eyes.
Already the German had grasped a pinch of hair and was tugging at it, when M. Dubuis knocked up his arm with a backhanded blow and, taking him by the neck, flung him back on to his seat. Then, mad with rage, his temples swelling and his eyes bloodshot, still strangling him with one hand, he set to striking him furious blows in the face with his closed fist. The Prussian struggled, trying to draw his sabre or get a grip on his adversary, who was lying on top of him. But M. Dubuis crushed him with the enormous weight of his paunch, and struck and struck without respite, without taking breath, without knowing where the blows were falling. Blood flowed; the throttled German choked, spat out teeth, and strove in vain to fling off the fat, exasperated man who was knocking him out.
The Englishmen had risen and drawn near to get a better view. They stood there, full of pleasure and curiosity, ready to bet on or against either of the combatants.
Suddenly M. Dubuis, exhausted by his monstrous effort, rose and sat back without saying a word.
The Prussian did not fling himself upon him, so bewildered did he remain, dazed with astonishment and pain. When he had recovered his breath, he said:
“If you do not gif me satisfaction vith the pistol, I vill kill you.”
“When you like,” replied M. Dubuis. “I am entirely at your service.”
“Here is the town of Strasbourg,” said the German; “I vill take two officers as vitnesses. I haf time before the train leafs.”
M. Dubuis, who was panting like the engine, asked the Englishmen:
“Will you be my witnesses?”
“Oh, yes!” they both replied simultaneously.
And the train stopped.
In a minute the Prussian had found two comrades, who brought pistols and they repaired to the ramparts.
The Englishmen kept on pulling out their watches, hurrying the pace, urging on the preliminary preparations, anxious
