The Red Inn | Page 9

blood. "It was," he said to me, "the punishment of my
thoughts." When he recovered consciousness he was in the public room,
seated on a chair, surrounded by French soldiers, and in presence of a
curious and observing crowd. He gazed stupidly at a Republican officer
engaged in taking the testimony of several witnesses, and in writing
down, no doubt, the "proces-verbal." He recognized the landlord, his
wife, the two boatmen, and the servant of the Red Inn. The surgical
instrument which the murderer had used--
[Here Monsieur Taillefer coughed, drew out his handkerchief to blow
his nose, and wiped his forehead. These perfectly natural motions were
noticed by me only; the other guests sat with their eyes fixed on
Monsieur Hermann, to whom they were listening with a sort of avidity.
The purveyor leaned his elbow on the table, put his head into his right
hand and gazed fixedly at Hermann. From that moment he showed no
other sign of emotion or interest, but his face remained passive and
ghastly, as it was when I first saw him playing with the stopper of the
decanter.]
The surgical instrument which the murderer had used was on the table
with the case containing the rest of the instruments, together with
Prosper's purse and papers. The gaze of the assembled crowd turned
alternately from these convicting articles to the young man, who
seemed to be dying and whose half-extinguished eyes apparently saw
nothing. A confused murmur which was heard without proved the
presence of a crowd, drawn to the neighborhood of the inn by the news
of the crime, and also perhaps by a desire to see the murderer. The step
of the sentries placed beneath the windows of the public room and the
rattle of their accoutrements could be heard above the talk of the
populace; but the inn was closed and the courtyard was empty and
silent.
Incapable of sustaining the glance of the officer who was gathering his
testimony, Prosper Magnan suddenly felt his hand pressed by a man,
and he raised his eyes to see who his protector could be in that crowd of
enemies. He recognized by his uniform the surgeon-major of the

demi-brigade then stationed at Andernach. The glance of that man was
so piercing, so stern, that the poor young fellow shuddered, and
suffered his head to fall on the back of his chair. A soldier put vinegar
to his nostrils and he recovered consciousness. Nevertheless his
haggard eyes were so devoid of life and intelligence that the surgeon
said to the officer after feeling Prosper's pulse,--
"Captain, it is impossible to question the man at this moment."
"Very well! Take him away," replied the captain, interrupting the
surgeon, and addressing a corporal who stood behind the prisoner.
"You cursed coward!" he went on, speaking to Prosper in a low voice,
"try at least to walk firmly before these German curs, and save the
honor of the Republic."
This address seemed to wake up Prosper Magnan, who rose and made a
few steps forward; but when the door was opened and he felt the fresh
air and saw the crowd before him, he staggered and his knees gave way
under him.
"This coward of a sawbones deserves a dozen deaths! Get on!" cried
the two soldiers who had him in charge, lending him their arms to
support him.
"There he is!--oh, the villain! the coward! Here he is! There he is!"
These cries seemed to be uttered by a single voice, the tumultuous
voice of the crowd which followed him with insults and swelled at
every step. During the passage from the inn to the prison, the noise
made by the tramping of the crowd and the soldiers, the murmur of the
various colloquies, the sight of the sky, the coolness of the air, the
aspect of Andernach and the shimmering of the waters of the Rhine,
--these impressions came to the soul of the young man vaguely,
confusedly, torpidly, like all the sensations he had felt since his waking.
There were moments, he said, when he thought he was no longer
living.
I was then in prison. Enthusiastic, as we all are at twenty years of age, I

wished to defend my country, and I commanded a company of free
lances, which I had organized in the vicinity of Andernach. A few days
before these events I had fallen plump, during the night, into a French
detachment of eight hundred men. We were two hundred at the most.
My scouts had sold me. I was thrown into the prison of Andernach, and
they talked of shooting me, as a warning to intimidate others. The
French talked also of reprisals. My father, however, obtained a reprieve
for three days to give him time to see General Augereau,