The Miller's Daughter........................................................................................................................................1

Emile Zola ................................................................................................................................................1

Pere Merlier's mill, one beautiful summer evening, was arranged for a grand fete. In the courtyard

were three tables, placed end to end, which awaited the guests. Everyone knew that Francoise, Merlier's

daughter, was that night to be betrothed to Dominique, a young man who was accused of idleness but whom

the fair sex for three leagues around gazed at with sparkling eyes, such a fine appearance had he.

Pere Merlier's mill was pleasing to look upon. It stood exactly in the center of Rocreuse, where the

highway made an elbow. The village had but one street, with two rows of huts, a row on each side of the

road; but at the elbow meadows spread out, and huge trees which lined the banks of the Morelle covered the

extremity of the valley with lordly shade. There was not, in all Lorraine, a corner of nature more adorable. To

the right and to the left thick woods, centenarian forests, towered up from gentle slopes, filling the horizon

with a sea of verdure, while toward the south the plain stretched away, of marvelous fertility, displaying as

far as the eye could reach patches of ground divided by green hedges. But what constituted the special charm

of Rocreuse was the coolness of that cut of verdure in the most sultry days of July and August. The Morelle

descended from the forests of Gagny and seemed to have gathered the cold from the foliage beneath which it

flowed for leagues; it brought with it the murmuring sounds, the icy and concentrated shade of the woods.

And it was not the sole source of coolness: all sorts of flowing streams gurgled through the forest; at each

step springs bubbled up; one felt, on following the narrow pathways, that there must exist subterranean lakes

which pierced through beneath the moss and availed themselves of the smallest crevices at the feet of trees or

between the rocks to burst forth in crystalline fountains. The whispering voices of these brooks were so

numerous and so loud that they drowned the song of the bullfinches. It was like some enchanted park with

Below the meadows were damp. Gigantic chestnut trees cast dark shadows. On the borders of the

meadows long hedges of poplars exhibited in lines their rustling branches. Two avenues of enormous plane

trees stretched across the fields toward the ancient Chateau de Gagny, then a mass of ruins. In this constantly

watered district the grass grew to an extraordinary height. It resembled a garden between two wooded hills, a

natural garden, of which the meadows were the lawns, the giant trees marking the colossal flower beds. When

the sun's rays at noon poured straight downward the shadows assumed a bluish tint; scorched grass slept in

And there it was that Pere Merlier's mill enlivened with its ticktack a corner of wild verdure. The

structure, built of plaster and planks, seemed as old as the world. It dipped partially in the Morelle, which

rounded at that point into a transparent basin. A sluice had been made, and the water fell from a height of

several meters upon the mill wheel, which cracked as it turned, with the asthmatic cough of a faithful servant

grown old in the house. When Pere Merlier was advised to change it he shook his head, saying that a new

wheel would be lazier and would not so well understand the work, and he mended the old one with whatever

he could put his hands on: cask staves, rusty iron, zinc and lead. The wheel appeared gayer than ever for it,

with its profile grown odd, all plumed with grass and moss. When the water beat upon it with its silvery flood

it was covered with pearls; its strange carcass wore a sparkling attire of necklaces of motherofpearl.

The part of the mill which dipped in the Morelle had the air of a barbaric arch stranded there. A

full half of the structure was built on piles. The water flowed beneath the floor, and deep places were there,

renowned throughout the district for the enormous eels and crayfish caught in them. Below the fall the basin

was as clear as a mirror, and when the wheel did not cover it with foam schools of huge fish could be seen

swimming with the slowness of a squadron. Broken steps led down to the river near a stake to which a boat

was moored. A wooden gallery passed above the wheel. Windows opened, pierced irregularly. It was a

pellmell of corners, of little walls, of constructions added too late, of beams and of roofs, which gave the

mill the aspect of an old, dismantled citadel. But ivy had grown; all sorts of clinging plants stopped the

toowide chinks and threw a green cloak over the ancient building. The young ladies who passed by sketched

On the side facing the highway the structure was more solid. A stone gateway opened upon the

wide courtyard, which was bordered to the right and to the left by sheds and stables. Beside a well an

immense elm covered half the courtyard with its shadow. In the background the building displayed the four

windows of its second story, surmounted by a pigeon house. Pere Merlier's sole vanity was to have this front

plastered every ten years. It had just received a new coating and dazzled the village when the sun shone on it

For twenty years Pere Merlier had been mayor of Rocreuse. He was esteemed for the fortune he

had acquired. His wealth was estimated at something like eighty thousand francs, amassed sou by sou. When

he married Madeleine Guillard, who brought him the mill as her dowry, he possessed only his two arms. But

Madeleine never repented of her choice, so briskly did he manage the business. Now his wife was dead, and

he remained a widower with his daughter Francoise. Certainly he might have rested, allowed the mill wheel

to slumber in the moss, but that would have been too dull for him, and in his eyes the building would have

Pere Merlier was a tall old man with a long, still face, who never laughed but who possessed,

notwithstanding, a very gay heart. He had been chosen mayor because of his money and also on account of

Francoise Merlier was just eighteen. She did not pass for one of the handsome girls of the district,

The Rocreuse people had not been able to understand why the daughter of Pere and Mere Merlier,

both of whom had always enjoyed excellent health, grew ill and with an air of regret. But at fifteen, though

yet delicate, her little face became one of the prettiest in the world. She had black hair, black eyes, and was as

rosy as a peach; her lips constantly wore a smile; there were dimples in her cheeks, and her fair forehead

seemed crowned with sunlight. Although not considered robust in the district, she was far from thin; the idea

was simply that she could not lift a sack of grain, but she would become plump as she grew oldershe

would eventually be as round and dainty as a quail. Her father's long periods of silence had made her

thoughtful very young. If she smiled constantly it was to please others. By nature she was serious.

Of course all the young men of the district paid court to her, more on account of her ecus than her

On the opposite bank of the Morelle lived a tall youth named Dominique Penquer. He did not

belong to Rocreuse. Ten years before he had arrived from Belgium as the heir of his uncle, who had left him

a small property upon the very border of the forest of Gagny, just opposite the mill, a few gunshots distant.

He had come to sell this property, he said, and return home. But the district charmed him, it appeared, for he

did not quit it. He was seen cultivating his little field, gathering a few vegetables upon which he subsisted. He

fished and hunted; many times the forest guards nearly caught him and were on the point of drawing up

procesverbaux against him. This free existence, the resources of which the peasants could not clearly

discover, at length gave him a bad reputation. He was vaguely styled a poacher. At any rate, he was lazy, for

he was often found asleep on the grass when he should have been at work. The hut he inhabited beneath the

last trees on the edge of the forest did not seem at all like the dwelling of an honest young fellow. If he had

had dealings with the wolves of the ruins of Gagny the old women would not have been the least bit

surprised. Nevertheless, the young girls sometimes risked defending him, for this doubtful man was superb;

supple and tall as a poplar, he had a very white skin, with flaxen hair and beard which gleamed like gold in

One fine morning Francoise declared to Pere Merlier that she loved Dominique and would never

It may well be imagined what a blow this was to Pere Merlier. He said nothing, according to his

custom, but his face grew thoughtful and his internal gaiety no longer sparkled in his eyes. He looked gruff

for a week. Francoise also was exceedingly grave. What tormented Pere Merlier was to find out how this

rogue of a poacher had managed to fascinate his daughter. Dominique had never visited the mill. The miller

watched and saw the gallant on the other side of the Morelle, stretched out upon the grass and feigning to be

asleep. Francoise could see him from her chamber window. Everything was plain: they had fallen in love by

Another week went by. Francoise became more and more grave. Pere Merlier still said nothing.

Then one evening he himself silently brought in Dominique. Francoise at that moment was setting the table.

She did not seem astonished; she contented herself with putting on an additional plate, knife and fork, but the

little dimples were again seen in her cheeks, and her smile reappeared. That morning Pere Merlier had sought

There the two men had talked for three hours with doors and windows closed. What was the

purport of their conversation no one ever knew. Certain it was, however, that Pere Merlier, on taking his

departure, already called Dominique his soninlaw. Without doubt the old man had found the youth he had

gone to seek a worthy youth in the lazy fellow who stretched himself out upon the grass to make the girls fall

All Rocreuse clamored. The women at the doors had plenty to say on the subject of the folly of

Pere Merlier, who had thus introduced a reprobate into his house. The miller let people talk on. Perhaps he

remembered his own marriage. He was without a sou when he wedded Madeleine and her mill; this, however,

had not prevented him from making a good husband. Besides, Dominique cut short the gossip by going so

vigorously to work that all the district was amazed. The miller's assistant had just been drawn to serve as a

soldier, and Dominique would not suffer another to be engaged. He carried the sacks, drove the cart, fought

with the old mill wheel when it refused to turn, and all this with such good will that people came to see him

out of curiosity. Pere Merlier had his silent laugh. He was excessively proud of having formed a correct

estimate of this youth. There is nothing like love to give courage to young folks. Amid all these heavy labors

Francoise and Dominique adored each other. They did not indulge in lovers' talks, but there was a smiling

Up to that time Pere Merlier had not spoken a single word on the subject of marriage, and they

respected this silence, awaiting the old man's will. Finally one day toward the middle of July he caused three

tables to be placed in the courtyard, beneath the great elm, and invited his friends of Rocreuse to come in the

When the courtyard was full and all had their glasses in their hands, Pere Merlier raised his very

"I have the pleasure to announce to you that Francoise will wed this young fellow here in a month,

Then they drank noisily. Everybody smiled. But Pere Merlier, again lifting his voice, exclaimed:

They embraced, blushing to the tips of their ears, while all the guests laughed joyously. It was a

genuine fete. They emptied a small cask of wine. Then when all were gone but intimate friends the

conversation was carried on without noise. The night had fallen, a starry and cloudless night. Dominique and

An old peasant spoke of the war the emperor had declared against Prussia. All the village lads had

already departed. On the preceding day troops had again passed through the place. There was going to be

"Bah!" said Pere Merlier with the selfishness of a happy man. "Dominique is a foreigner; he will

not go to the war. And if the Prussians come here he will be on hand to defend his wife!"

The idea that the Prussians might come there seemed a good joke. They were going to receive a

"I have afready seen them; I have already seen them," repeated the old peasant in a hollow voice.

There was silence. Then they drank again. Francoise and Dominique had heard nothing; they had

gently taken each other by the hand behind the bench, so that nobody could see them, and it seemed so

delightful that they remained where they were, their eyes plunged into the depths of the shadows.

What a warm and superb night it was! The village slumbered on both edges of the white highway

in infantile quietude. From time to time was heard the crowing of some chanticleer aroused too soon. From

the huge wood near by came long breaths, which passed over the roofs like caresses. The meadows, with their

dark shadows, assumed a mysterious and dreamy majesty, while all the springs, all the flowing waters which

gurgled in the darkness, seemed to be the cool and rhythmical respiration of the sleeping country.

Occasionally the ancient mill wheel, lost in a doze, appeared to dream like those old watchdogs that bark

while snoring; it cracked; it talked to itself, rocked by the fall of the Morelle, the surface of which gave forth

the musical and continuous sound of an organ pipe. Never had more profound peace descended upon a

A month later, on the day preceding that of Saint Louis, Rocreuse was in a state of terror. The

Prussians had beaten the emperor and were advancing by forced marches toward the village. For a week past

people who hurried along the highway had been announcing them thus: "They are at Lormierethey are at

Novelles!" And on hearing that they were drawing near so rapidly, Rocreuse every morning expected to see

them descend from the wood of Gagny. They did not come, however, and that increased the fright. They

That morning, a little before sunrise, there was an alarm. The inhabitants were awakened by the

loud tramp of men on the highway. The women were already on their knees, making the sign of the cross,

when some of the people, peering cautiously through the partially opened windows, recognized the red

pantaloons. It was a French detachment. The captain immediately asked for the mayor of the district and

The sun rose gaily that morning. It would be hot at noon. Over the wood floated a golden

brightness, while in the distance white vapors arose from the meadows. The neat and pretty village awoke

amid the fresh air, and the country, with its river and its springs, had the moist sweetness of a bouquet. But

that beautiful day caused nobody to smile. The captain was seen to take a turn around the mill, examine the

neighboring houses, pass to the other side of the Morelle and from there study the district with a field glass;

Pere Merlier, who accompanied him, seemed to be giving him explanations. Then the captain posted soldiers

behind the walls, behind the trees and in the ditches. The main body of the detachment encamped in the

courtyard of the mill. Was there going to be a battle? When Pere Merlier returned he was questioned. He

Francoise and Dominique were in the courtyard; they looked at him. At last he took his pipe from

Dominique, his lips pressed together, with an angry frown on his forehead, at times raised himself

on tiptoe and fixed his eyes upon the wood of Gagny, as if he wished to see the Prussians arrive. Francoise,

very pale and serious, came and went, furnishing the soldiers with what they needed. The troops were making

soup in a corner of the courtyard; they joked while waiting for it to get ready.

The captain was delighted. He had visited the chambers and the huge hall of the mill which looked

out upon the river. Now, seated beside the well, he was conversing with Pere Merlier.

"Your mill is a real fortress," he said. "We can hold it without difficulty until evening. The bandits

The miller was grave. He saw his mill burning like a torch, but he uttered no complaint, thinking

"You had better hide the boat behind the wheel; there is a place there just fit for that purpose.

The captain gave the requisite order. This officer was a handsome man of forty; he was tall and

had an amiable countenance. The sight of Francoise and Dominique seemed to please him. He contemplated

them as if he had forgotten the coming struggle. He followed Francoise with his eyes, and his look told

plainly that he thought her charming. Then turning toward Dominique, he asked suddenly:

The captain evidently did not attach much weight to this reason. He winked his eye and smiled.

Francoise was more agreeable company than a cannon. On seeing him smile, Dominique added:

"I am a foreigner, but I can put a ball in an apple at five hundred meters. There is my hunting gun

Francoise had approached, somewhat agitated. Without heeding the strangers present Dominique

took and grasped in his the two hands she extended to him, as if to put herself under his protection. The

captain smiled again but said not a word. He remained seated, his sword across his knees and his eyes

It was already ten o'clock. The heat had become very great. A heavy silence prevailed. In the

courtyard, in the shadows of the sheds, the soldiers had begun to eat their soup. Not a sound came from the

village; all its inhabitants had barricaded the doors and windows of their houses. A dog, alone upon the

highway, howled. From the neighboring forests and meadows, swooning in the heat, came a prolonged and

distant voice made up of all the scattered breaths. A cuckoo sang. Then the silence grew more intense.

Suddenly in that slumbering air a shot was heard. The captain leaped briskly to his feet; the

soldiers left their plates of soup, yet half full. In a few seconds everybody was at the post of duty; from

bottom to top the mill was occupied. Meanwhile the captain, who had gone out upon the road, had discovered

nothing; to the right and to the left the highway stretched out, empty and white. A second shot was heard, and

still nothing visible, not even a shadow. But as he was returning the captain perceived in the direction of

Gagny, between two trees, a light puff of smoke whirling away like thistledown. The wood was calm and

"The bandits have thrown themselves into the forest," he muttered. "They know we are here."

Then the firing continued, growing more and more vigorous, between the French soldiers posted

around the mill and the Prussians hidden behind the trees. The balls whistled above the Morelle without

damaging either side. The fusillade was irregular, the shots coming from every bush, and still only the little

puffs of smoke, tossed gently by the breeze, were seen. This lasted nearly two hours. The officer hummed a

tune with an air of indifference. Francoise and Dominique, who had remained in the courtyard, raised

themselves on tiptoe and looked over a low wall. They were particularly interested in a little soldier posted on

the shore of the Morelle, behind the remains of an old bateau; he stretched himself out flat on the ground,

watched, fired and then glided into a ditch a trifle farther back to reload his gun; and his movements were so

droll, so tricky and so supple, that they smiled as they looked at him. He must have perceived the head of a

Prussian, for he arose quickly and brought his weapon to his shoulder, but before he could fire he uttered a

cry, fell and rolled into the ditch, where for an instant his legs twitched convulsively like the claws of a

chicken just killed. The little soldier had received a ball full in the breast. He was the first man slain.

Instinctively Francoise seized Dominique's hand and clasped it with a nervous contraction.

At that moment a sharp little thud was heard in the old elm, and a fragment of a branch came

whirling down. But the two young folks did not stir; they were nailed to the spot by anxiety to see what was

going on. On the edge of the wood a Prussian had suddenly come out from behind a tree as from a theater

stage entrance, beating the air with his hands and falling backward. Nothing further moved; the two corpses

seemed asleep in the broad sunlight; not a living soul was seen in the scorching country. Even the crack of the

Pere Merlier looked at the captain with an air of surprise, as if to ask him if the struggle was over.

"They are getting ready for something worse," muttered the officer. "Don't trust appearances.

He had not finished speaking when there was a terrible discharge of musketry. The great elm was

riddled, and a host of leaves shot into the air. The Prussians had happily fired too high. Dominique dragged,

But they did not heed him; they entered the huge hall where ten soldiers were waiting in silence,

watching through the chinks in the closed window shutters. The captain was alone in the courtyard, crouching

behind the little wall, while the furious discharges continued. Without, the soldiers he had posted gave

ground only foot by foot. However, they reentered one by one, crawling, when the enemy had dislodged

them from their hiding places. Their orders were to gain time and not show themselves, that the Prussians

might remain in ignorance as to what force was before them. Another hour went by. As a sergeant arrived,

saying that but two or three more men remained without, the captain glanced at his watch, muttering:

He caused the great gate of the courtyard to be closed, and every preparation was made for an

energetic resistance. As the Prussians were on the opposite side of the Morelle, an immediate assault was not

to be feared. There was a bridge two kilometers away, but they evidently were not aware of its existence, and

it was hardly likely that they would attempt to ford the river. The officer, therefore, simply ordered the

highway to be watched. Every effort would be made in the direction of the country.

Again the fusillade had ceased. The mill seemed dead beneath the glowing sun. Not a shutter was

open; no sound came from the interior. At length, little by little, the Prussians showed themselves at the edge

of the forest of Gagny. They stretched their necks and grew bold. In the mill several soldiers had already

They were exceedingly prudent, gazing at the mill with a suspicious air. The silent and somber old

structure with its curtains of ivy filled them with uneasiness. Nevertheless, they advanced. When fifty of them

A crash was heard; isolated shots followed. Francoise, all of a tremble, had mechanically put her

hands to her ears. Dominique, behind the soldiers, looked on; when the smoke had somewhat lifted he saw

three Prussians stretched upon their backs in the center of the meadow. The others had thrown themselves

For more than an hour the mill was riddled with balls. They dashed against the old walls like hail.

When they struck the stones they were heard to flatten and fall into the water. They buried themselves in the

wood with a hollow sound. Occasionally a sharp crack announced that the mill wheel had been hit. The

soldiers in the interior were careful of their shots; they fired only when they could take aim. From time to

time the captain consulted his watch. As a ball broke a shutter and plowed into the ceiling he said to himself:

Little by little the terrible fusillade weakened the old mill. A shutter fell into the water, pierced like

a bit of lace, and it was necessary to replace it with a mattress. Pere Merlier constantly exposed himself to

ascertain the extent of the damage done to his poor wheel, the cracking of which made his heart ache. All

would be over with it this time; never could he repair it. Dominique had implored Francoise to withdraw, but

she refused to leave him; she was seated behind a huge oaken clothespress, which protected her. A ball,

however, struck the clothespress, the sides of which gave forth a hollow sound. Then Dominique placed

himself in front of Francoise. He had not yet fired a shot; he held his gun in his hand but was unable to

approach the windows, which were altogether occupied by the soldiers. At each discharge the floor shook.

He had just seen a great dark mass emerge from the wood. Immediately a formidable platoon fire

opened. It was like a waterspout passing over the mill. Another shutter was shattered, and through the gaping

opening of the window the balls entered. Two soldiers rolled upon the floor. One of them lay like a stone;

they pushed the body against the wall because it was in the way. The other twisted in agony, begging his

comrades to finish him, but they paid no attention to him. The balls entered in a constant stream; each man

took care of himself and strove to find a loophole through which to return the fire. A third soldier was hit; he

uttered not a word; he fell on the edge of a table, with eyes fixed and haggard. Opposite these dead men

Francoise, stricken with horror, had mechanically pushed away her chair to sit on the floor against the wall;

she thought she would take up less room there and not be in so much danger. Meanwhile the soldiers had

collected all the mattresses of the household and partially stopped up the windows with them. The hall was

"Five o'clock," said the captain. "Keep up your courige! They are about to try to cross the river!"

At that moment Francoise uttered a cry. A ball which had ricocheted had grazed her forehead.

Several drops of blood appeared. Dominique stared at her; then, approaching the window, he fired his first

shot. Once started, he did not stop. He loaded and fired without heeding what was passing around him, but

from time to time he glanced at Francoise. He was very deliberate and aimed with care. The Prussians,

keeping beside the poplars, attempted the passage of the Morelle, as the captain had predicted, but as soon as

a man strove to cross he fell, shot in the head by Dominique. The captain, who had his eyes on the young

man, was amazed. He complimented him, saying that he should be glad to have many such skillful

marksmen. Dominique did not hear him. A ball cut his shoulder; another wounded his arm, but he continued

There were two more dead men. The mangled mattresses no longer stopped the windows. The last

discharge seemed as if it would have carried away the mill. The position had ceased to be tenable.

Now he counted the minutes. He had promised his chiefs to hold the enemy in check there until

evening, and he would not give an inch before the hour he had fixed on for the retreat. He preserved his

amiable air and smiled upon Francoise to reassure her. He had picked up the gun of a dead soldier and

Only four soldiers remained in the hall. The Prussians appeared in a body on the other side of the

Morelle, and it was clear that they intended speedily to cross the river. A few minutes more elapsed. The

stubborn captain would not order the retreat. Just then a sergeant hastened to him and said:

The Prussians must have found the bridge. The captain pulled out his watch and looked at it.

Then at six o'clock exactly he at last consented to lead his men out through a little door which

opened into a lane. From there they threw themselves into a ditch; they gained the forest of Sauval. Before

taking his departure the captain bowed very politely to Pere Merlier and made his excuses, adding:

Dominique was now alone in the hall. He was still firing, hearing nothing, understanding nothing.

He felt only the need of defending Francoise. He had not the least suspicion in the world that the soldiers had

retreated. He aimed and killed his man at every shot. Suddenly there was a loud noise. The Prussians had

entered the courtyard from behind. Dominique fired a last; shot, and they fell upon him while his gun was yet

Four men held him. Others vociferated around him in a frightful language. They were ready to

slaughter him on the spot. Francoise, with a supplicating look, had cast herself before him. But an officer

entered and ordered the prisoner to be delivered up to him. After exchanging a few words in German with the

soldiers he turned toward Dominique and said to him roughly in very good French:

It was a settled rule of the German staff that every Frenchman, not belonging to the regular army,

taken with arms in his hands should be shot. The militia companies themselves were not recognized as

belligerents. By thus making terrible examples of the peasants who defended their homes, the Germans hoped

The officer, a tall, lean man of fifty, briefly questioned Dominique. Although he spoke remarkably

Dominique made no reply. At that moment the officer saw Francoise who was standing by, very

pale, listening; upon her white forehead her slight wound had put a red bar. He looked at the young folks, one

after the other, seemed to understand matters and contented himself with adding:

This confession was useless, for he was black with powder, covered with sweat and stained with a

Francoise did not cry out. She clasped her hands and raised them with a gesture of mute despair.

The officer noticed this gesture. Two soldiers had taken Dominique to a neighboring apartment, where they

were to keep watch over him. The young girl had fallen upon a chair, totally overcome; she could not weep;

she was suffocating. The officer had continued to examine her. At last he spoke to her.

She shook her head negatively. The German stood stiffly on his feet with out a smile. Then after a

"In that case, he ought to be thoroughly acquainted with the neighboring forests."

"He is thoroughly acquainted with them, monsieur," she said, looking at him with considerable

He said nothing further to her but turned upon his heel, demanding that the mayor of the village

should be brought to him. But Francoise had arisen with a slight blush on her countenance; thinking that she

had seized the aim of the officer's questions, she had recovered hope. She herself ran to find her father.

Pere Merlier, as soon as the firing had ceased, had quickly descended to the wooden gallery to

examine his wheel. He adored his daughter; he had a solid friendship for Dominique, his future son inlaw,

but his wheel also held a large place in his heart. Since the two young ones, as he called them, had come safe

and sound out of the fight, he thought of his other tenderness, which had suffered greatly. Bent over the huge

wooden carcass, he was studying its wounds with a sad air. Five buckets were shattered to pieces; the central

framework was riddled. He thrust his fingers in the bullet holes to measure their depth; he thought how he

could repair all these injuries. Francoise found him already stopping up the clefts with rubbish and moss.

And she wept at last as she told him what she had just heard. Pere Merlier tossed his head. People

were not shot in such a summary fashion. The matter must be looked after. He reentered the mill with his

silent and tranquil air. When the officer demanded of him provisions for his men he replied that the

inhabitants of Rocreuse were not accustomed to be treated roughly and that nothing would be obtained from

them if violence were employed. He would see to everything but on condition that he was not interfered with.

The officer at first seemed irritated by his calm tone; then he gave way before the old man's short and clear

And he went away. An hour later the contribution of war in provisions and money, demanded by

the officer, was in the courtyard of the mill. Night came on. Francoise watched with anxiety the movements

of the soldiers. She hung about the room in which Dominique was imprisoned. Toward seven o'clock she

experienced a poignant emotion. She saw the officer enter the prisoner's apartment and for a quarter of an

hour heard their voices in loud conversation. For an instant the officer reappeared upon the threshold to give

an order in German, which she did not understand, but when twelve men ranged themselves in the courtyard,

their guns on their shoulders, she trembled and felt as if about to faint. All then was over: the execution was

going to take place. The twelve men stood there ten minutes, Dominique's voice continuing to be raised in a

tone of violent refusal. Finally the officer came out, saying, as he roughly shut the door:

And with a gesture he ordered the twelve men to break ranks. Francoise was stupefied. Pere

Merlier, who had been smoking his pipe and looking at the platoon simply with an air of curiosity, took her

"Be calm," he said, "and try to sleep. Tomorrow, when it is light, we will see what can be done."

As he withdrew he prudently locked her in. It was his opinion that women were good for nothing

and that they spoiled everything when they took a hand in a serious affair. But Francoise did not retire. She

sat for a long while upon the side of her bed, listening to the noises of the house. The German soldiers

encamped in the courtyard sang and laughed; they must have been eating and drinking until eleven o'clock,

for the racket did not cease an instant. In the mill itself heavy footsteps resounded from time to time, without

doubt those of the sentinels who were being relieved. But she was interested most by the sounds she could

distinguish in the apartment beneath her chamber. Many times she stretched herself out at full length and put

her ear to the floor. That apartment was the one in which Dominique was confined. He must have been

walking back and forth from the window to the wall, for she long heard the regular cadence of his steps. Then

deep silence ensued; he had doubtless seated himself. Finally every noise ceased and all was as if asleep.

When slumber appeared to her to have settled on the house she opened her window as gently as possible and

Without, the night had a warm serenity. The slender crescent of the moon, which was sinking

behind the forest of Sauval, lit up the country with the glimmer of a night lamp. The lengthened shadows of

the tall trees barred the meadows with black, while the grass in uncovered spots assumed the softness of

greenish velvet. But Francoise did not pause to admire the mysterious charms of the night. She examined the

country, searching for the sentinels whom the Germans had posted obliquely. She clearly saw their shadows

extending like the rounds of a ladder along the Morelle. Only one was before the mill, on the other shore of

the river, beside a willow, the branches of which dipped in the water. Francoise saw him plainly. He was a

tall man and was standing motionless, his face turned toward the sky with the dreamy air of a shepherd.

When she had carefully inspected the locality she again seated herself on her bed. She remained

there an hour, deeply absorbed. Then she listened once more: there was not a sound in the mill. She returned

to the window and glanced out, but doubtless one of the horns of the moon, which was still visible behind the

trees, made her uneasy, for she resumed her waiting attitude. At last she thought the proper time had come.

The night was as black as jet; she could no longer see the sentinel opposite; the country spread out like a pool

of ink. She strained her ear for an instant and made her decision. Passing near the window was an iron ladder,

the bars fastened to the wall, which mounted from the wheel to the garret and formerly enabled the millers to

reach certain machinery; afterward the mechanism had been altered, and for a long while the ladder had been

Francoise bravely climbed out of her window and grasped one of the bars of the ladder. She began

to descend. Her skirts embarrassed her greatly. Suddenly a stone was detached from the wall and fell into the

Morelle with a loud splash. She stopped with an icy shiver of fear. Then she realized that the waterfall with

its continuous roar would drown every noise she might make, and she descended more courageously, feeling

the ivy with her foot, assuring herself that the rounds were firm. When she was at the height of the chamber

which served as Dominique's prison she paused. An unforeseen difficulty nearly caused her to lose all her

courage: the window of the chamber was not directly below that of her apartment. She hung off from the

ladder, but when she stretched out her arm her hand encountered only the wall. Must she, then, ascend

without pushing her plan to completion? Her arms were fatigued; the murmur of the Morelle beneath her

commenced to make her dizzy. Then she tore from the wall little fragments of plaster and threw them against

Dominique's window. He did not hear; he was doubtless asleep. She crumbled more plaster from the wall,

scraping the skin off her fingers. She was utterly exhausted; she felt herself falling backward, when

It was the first time that she had addressed him familiarly. Leaning out, he seized her and drew her

into the chamber. There she gave vent to a flood of tears, stifling her sobs that she might not be heard. Then

Dominique, still stupefied at seeing her thus, nodded his head affirmatively, pointing to the door.

On the other side they heard someone snoring; the sentinel, yielding to sleep, had thrown himself on the floor

against the door, arguing that by disposing himself thus the prisoner could not escape.

"You must fly," resumed Francoise excitedly. "I have come to beg you to do so and to bid you

"What? Is it you; is it you? Oh, what fear you caused me! You might have killed yourself!"

"How I love you, Francoise!" he murmured. "You are as courageous as good. I had only one dread:

that I should die without seeing you again. But you are here, and now they can shoot me. When I have passed

Little by little he had drawn her to him, and she leaned her head upon his shoulder. The danger

"Ah, Francoise," resumed Dominique in a caressing voice, "this is Saint Louis's Day, the day, so

long awaited, of our marriage. Nothing has been able to separate us, since we are both here alone, faithful to

They tremblingly exchanged a kiss. But all at once she disengaged herself from Dominique's arms;

"You must fly; you must fly," she whispered. "There is not a minute to be lost!"

And as he stretched out his arms in the darkness to clasp her again, she said tenderly:

"Oh, I implore you to listen to me! If you die I shall die also! In an hour it will be light. I want you

Then rapidly she explained her plan. The iron ladder descended to the mill wheel; there he could

climb down the buckets and get into the boat which was hidden away in a nook. Afterward it would be easy

Francoise shivered. She placed in his hand a knife she had brought with her. There was a brief

"What is to become of your father and yourself?" resumed Domiriique. "No, I cannot fly! When I

am gone those soldiers will, perhaps, massacre you both! You do not know them. They offered me my life if I

would consent to guide them through the forest of Sauval. When they discover my escape they will be

The young girl did not stop to argue. She said simply in reply to all the reasons he advanced:

"Out of love for me, fly! If you love me, Dominique, do not remain here another moment!"

Then she promised to climb back to her chamber. No one would know that she had helped him.

She finally threw her arms around him to convince him with an embrace, with a burst of extraordinary love.

"Can you swear to me that your father knows what you have done and that he advises me to fly?"

She told a falsehood. At that moment she had only one immense need: to know that he was safe, to

escape from the abominable thought that the sun would be the signal for his death. When he was far away

every misfortune might fall upon her; that would seem delightful to her from the moment he was secure. The

They said nothing more. Dominique reopened the window. But suddenly a sound froze them. The

door was shaken, and they thought that it was about to be opened. Evidently a patrol had heard their voices.

Standing locked in each other's arms, they waited in unspeakable anguish. The door was shaken a second

time, but it did not open. They uttered low sighs of relief; they comprehended that the soldier who was asleep

against the door must have turned over. In fact, silence succeeded; the snoring was resumed.

Dominique exacted that Francoise should ascend to her chamber before he departed. He clasped

her in his arms and bade her a mute adieu. Then he aided her to seize the ladder and clung to it in his turn.

But he refused to descend a single round until convinced that she was in her apartment. When Francoise had

She leaned her elbows on the sill and strove to follow Dominique with her eyes. The night was yet

very dark. She searched for the sentinel but could not see him; the willow alone made a pale stain in the midst

of the gloom. For an instant she heard the sound produced by Dominique's body in passing along the ivy.

Then the wheel cracked, and there was a slight agitation in the water which told her that the young man had

found the boat. A moment afterward she distinguished the somber silhouette of the bateau on the gray surface

of the Morelle. Terrible anguish seized upon her. Each instant she thought she heard the sentinel's cry of

alarm; the smallest sounds scattered through the gloom seemed to her the hurried tread of soldiers, the clatter

of weapons, the charging of guns. Nevertheless, the seconds elapsed and the country maintained its profound

peace. Dominique must have reached the other side of the river. Francoise saw nothing more. The silence was

majestic. She heard a shuffling of feet, a hoarse cry and the hollow fall of a body. Afterward the silence grew

deeper. Then as if she had felt Death pass by, she stood, chilled through and through, staring into the thick

At dawn a clamor of voices shook the mill. Pere Merlier opened the door of Francoise's chamber.

She went down into the courtyard, pale and very calm. But there she could not repress a shiver as she saw the

Around the body troops gesticulated, uttering cries of fury. Many of them shook their fists at the

village. Meanwhile the officer had summoned Pere Merlier as the mayor of the commune.

"Look!" he said to him in a voice almost choking with anger. "There lies one of our men who was

found assassinated upon the bank of the river. We must make a terrible example, and I count on you to aid us

"As you choose," answered the miller with his usual stoicism, "but you will find it no easy task."

The officer stooped and drew aside a part of the cloak which hid the face of the dead man. Then

appeared a horrible wound. The sentinel had been struck in the throat, and the weapon had remained in the

"Examine that knife," said the officer to Pere Merlier; "perhaps it will help us in our search."

The old man gave a start but recovered control of himself immediately. He replied without moving

"Everybody in the district has similar knives. Doubtless your man was weary of fighting and put an

"Mind what you say!" cried the officer furiously. "I do not know what prevents me from setting

Happily in his rage he did not notice the deep trouble pictured on Francoise's countenance. She had

been forced to sit down on a stone bench near the well. Despite herself her eyes were fixed upon the corpse

stretched our on the ground almost at her feet. It was that of a tall and handsome man who resembled

Dominique, with flaxen hair and blue eyes. This resemblance made her heart ache. She thought that perhaps

the dead soldier had left behind him in Germany a sweetheart who would weep her eyes out for him. She

The officer was talking of striking Rocreuse with terrible measures, when soldiers came running to

him. Dominique's escape had just been discovered. It caused an extreme agitation. The officer went to the

apartment in which the prisoner had been confined, looked out of the window which had remained open,

Francoise heard him and was overcome with anguish. But the miller did not suspect her of

"It was that wretch who assassinated the soldier! I am sure of it!" cried the officer. "He has

undoubtedly reached the forest. But he must be found for us or the village shall pay for him!"

"Oh, there must be nooks there with which you are acquainted. I will give you ten men. You must

"As you please. But it will take a week to search all the wood in the vicinity."

The old man's tranquillity enraged the officer. In fact, the latter comprehended the asburdity of this

search. At that moment he saw Francoise, pale and trembling, on the bench. The anxious attitude of the

young girl struck him. He was silent for an instant, during which he in turn examined the miller and his

Pere Merlier grew livid and seemed about to hurl himself upon the officer to strangle him. He

"Yes, that's it!" continued the Prussian. "And you or your daughter helped him to escape! One of

The miller uttered not a word. He turned away and looked into space with an air of indifference, as

And he again ordered out the platoon of execution. Pere Merlier remained as stoical as ever. He

hardly even shrugged his shoulders; all this drama appeared to him in bad taste. Without doubt he did not

believe that they would shoot a man so lightly. But when the platoon drew up before him he said gravely:

"So it is serious, is it? Go on with your bloody work then! If you must have a victim I will do as

"In pity, monsieur, do no harm to my father! Kill me in his stead! I aided Dominique to fly! I alone

"Hush, my child!" cried Pere Merlier. "Why do you tell an untruth? She passed the night locked in

"No, I do not tell a falsehood!" resumed the young girl ardently. "I climbed out of my window and

went down the iron ladder; I urged Dominique to fly. This is the truth, the whole truth!"

The old man became very pale. He saw clearly in her eyes that she did not lie, and her story

terrified him. Ah, these children with their hearts, how they spoil everything! Then he grew angry and

"She is mad; do not heed her. She tells you stupid tales. Come, finish your work!"

She still protested. She knelt, clasping her hands. The officer tranquilly watched this dolorous

"MON DIEU!" he said at last. "I take your father because I have not the other. Find the fugitive

She gazed at him with staring eyes, astonished at the atrocity of the proposition.

"How horrible!" she murmured. "Where do you think I can find Dominique at this hour? He has

"Oh, MON DIEU! How can I choose? If I knew where Dominique was I could not choose! You

are cutting my heart. I would rather die at once. Yes, it would be the sooner over. Kill me, I implore you, kill

This scene of despair and tears finally made the officer impatient. He cried out:

"Enough! I will be merciful. I consent to give you two hours. If in that time your lover is not here

He caused Pere Merlier to be taken to the chamber which had served as Dominique's prison. The

old man demanded tobacco and began to smoke. Upon his impassible face not the slightest emotion was

visible. But when alone, as he smoked, he shed two big tears which ran slowly down his cheeks. His poor,

Francoise remained in the middle of the courtyard. Prussian soldiers passed, laughing. Some of

them spoke to her, uttered jokes she could not understand. She stared at the door through which her father had

disappeared. With a slow movement she put her hand to her forehead, as if to prevent it from bursting.

She had two hours. This phrase buzzed in her ears. Then mechanically she quitted the courtyard;

she walked straight ahead. Where should she go?what should she do? She did not even try to make a

decision because she well understood the inutility of her efforts. However, she wished to see Dominique.

They could have an understanding together; they might, perhaps, find an expedient. And amid the confusion

of her thoughts she went down to the shore of the Morelle, which she crossed below the sluice at a spot where

there were huge stones. Her feet led her beneath the first willow, in the corner of the meadow. As she stooped

she saw a pool of blood which made her turn pale. It was there the murder had been committed. She followed

the track of Dominique in the trodden grass; he must have run, for she perceived a line of long footprints

stretching across the meadow. Then farther on she lost these traces. But in a neighboring field she thought she

found them again. The new trail conducted her to the edge of the forest, where every indication was effaced.

Francoise, nevertheless, plunged beneath the trees. It solaced her to be alone. She sat down for an

instant, but at the thought that time was passing she leaped to her feet. How long had it been since she left the

mill? Five minutes?half an hour? She had lost all conception of time. Perhaps Dominique had concealed

himself in a copse she knew of, where they had one afternoon eaten filberts together. She hastened to the

copse, searched it. Only a blackbird flew away, uttering its soft, sad note. Then she thought he might have

taken refuge in a hollow of the rocks, where it had sometimes been his custom to lie in wait for game, but the

hollow of the rocks was empty. What good was it to hunt for him? She would never find him, but little by

little the desire to discover him took entire possession of her, and she hastened her steps. The idea that he

might have climbed a tree suddenly occurred to her. She advanced with uplifted eyes, and that he might be

made aware of her presence she called him every fifteen or twenty steps. Cuckoos answered; a breath of wind

which passed through the branches made her believe that he was there and was descending. Once she even

imagined she saw him; she stopped, almost choked, and wished to fly. What was she to say to him? Had she

come to take him back to be shot? Oh no, she would not tell him what had happened. She would cry out to

him to escape, not to remain in the neighborhood. Then the thought that her father was waiting for her gave

She was mad to have come. And as if seized with fear, she ran; she sought to leave the forest.

Three times she deceived herself; she thought she never again would find the mill, when she entered a

meadow just opposite Rocreuse. As soon as she saw the village she paused. Was she going to return alone?

And she saw Dominique, who had raised his head above the edge of a ditch. Just God! She had

found him! Did heaven wish his death? She restrained a cry; she let herself glide into the ditch.

Then, reassured, he explained to her that he had resolved not to go away. He was doubtful about

the safety of herself and her father. Those Prussian wretches were fully capable of taking vengeance upon

He embraced her, saying that it was imprudent for them to be talking, and he wished to climb out

"Listen," she said: "it would, perhaps, be wise for you to remain where you are. No one is

Again she swore that she was hiding nothing. She had simply wished to know that he was near her.

And she stammered forth still further reasons. She seemed so strange to him that he now could not be induced

to flee. Besides, he had faith in the return of the French. Troops had been seen in the direction of Sauval.

"Ah, let them hurry; let them get here as soon as possible," she murmured fervently.

At that moment eleven o'clock sounded from the belfry of Rocreuse. The strokes were clear and

distinct. She arose with a terrified look; two hours had passed since she quitted the mill.

"Hear me," she said rapidly: "if we have need of you I will wave my handkerchief from my

And she departed on a run, while Dominique, very uneasy, stretched himself out upon the edge of

the ditch to watch the mill. As she was about to enter Rocreuse, Francoise met an old beggar, Pere Bontemps,

who knew everybody in the district. He bowed to her; he had just seen the miller in the midst of the

Prussians; then, making the sign of the cross and muttering broken words, he went on his way.

Pere Merlier was there, seated upon the bench beside the well. He was smoking. The young girl

again begged, wept, sank on her knees. She wished to gain time. The hope of seeing the French return had

increased in her, and while lamenting she thought she heard in the distance, the measured tramp of an army.

"Listen, monsieur," she said: "an hour, another hour; you can grant us another hour!"

But the officer remained inflexible. He even ordered two men to seize her and take her away, that

they might quietly proceed with the execution of the old man. Then a frightful struggle took place in

Francoise's heart. She could not allow her father to be thus assassinated. No, no; she would die rather with

Dominique. She was running toward her chamber when Dominique himself entered the courtyard.

The officer and the soldiers uttered a shout of triumph. But the young man, calmly, with a

somewhat severe look, went up to Francoise, as if she had been the only person present.

"You did wrong," he said. "Why did you not bring me back? It remained for Pere Bontemps to tell

It was three o'clock in the afternoon. Great black clouds, the trail of some neighboring storm, had

slowly filled the sky. The yellow heavens, the brass covered uniforms, had changed the valley of Rocreuse,

so gay in the sunlight, into a den of cutthroats full of sinister gloom. The Prussian officer had contented

himself with causing Dominique to be imprisoned without announcing what fate he reserved for him. Since

noon Francoise had been torn by terrible anguish. Despite her father's entreaties she would not quit the

courtyard. She was awaiting the French. But the hours sped on; night was approaching, and she suffered the

more as all the time gained did not seem to be likely to change the frightful denouement.

About three o'clock the Prussians made their preparations for departure. For an instant past the

officer had, as on the previous day, shut himself up with Dominique. Francoise realized that the young man's

life was in balance. She clasped her hands; she prayed. Pere Merlier, beside her, maintained silence and the

The miller drew her to him and took her on his knees as if she had been a child.

At that moment the officer came out, while behind him two men brought Dominique.

"Think well," resumed the officer. "The service you refuse me another will render us. I am

generous: I offer you your life. I want you simply to guide us through the forest to Montredon. There must be

Francoise, her hands clasped, supplicated him from afar. She had forgotten everything; she would

have advised him to commit an act of cowardice. But Pere Merlier seized her hands that the Prussians might

The platoon of execution was there. The officer awaited a sign of weakness on Dominique's part.

He still expected to conquer him. No one spoke. In the distance violent crashes of thunder were heard.

Oppressive heat weighed upon the country. But suddenly, amid the silence, a cry broke forth:

Yes, the French were at hand. Upon the Sauval highway, at the edge of the wood, the line of red

pantaloons could be distinguished. In the mill there was an extraordinary agitation. The Prussian soldiers ran

She was wild with joy. She escaped from her father's grasp; she laughed and tossed her arms in the

A terrible platoon fire, which burst upon her ears like a clap of thunder, caused her to turn. The

And with his own hand pushing Dominique against the wall of a shed he ordered his men to fire.

When Francoise looked Dominique lay upon the ground with blood streaming from his neck and shoulders.

She did not weep; she stood stupefied. Her eyes grew fixed, and she sat down under the shed, a

few paces from the body. She stared at it, wringing her hands. The Prussians had seized Pere Merlier as a

It was a stirring combat. The officer had rapidly posted his men, comprehending that he could not

beat a retreat without being cut to pieces. Hence he would fight to the last. Now the Prussians defended the

mill, and the French attacked it. The fusillade began with unusual violence. For half an hour it did not cease.

Then a hollow sound was heard, and a ball broke a main branch of the old elm. The French had cannon. A

battery, stationed just above the ditch in which Dominique had hidden himself, swept the wide street of

Ah, the poor mill! Balls pierced it in every part. Half of the roof was carried away. Two walls were

battered down. But it was on the side of the Morelle that the destruction was most lamentable. The ivy, torn

from the tottering edifice, hung like rags; the river was encumbered with wrecks of all kinds, and through a

breach was visible Francoise's chamber with its bed, the white curtains of which were carefully closed. Shot

followed shot; the old wheel received two balls and gave vent to an agonizing groan; the buckets were borne

off by the current; the framework was crushed. The soul of the gay mill had left it!

Then the French began the assault. There was a furious fight with swords and bayonets. Beneath

the rustcolored sky the valley was choked with the dead. The broad meadows had a wild look with their tall,

isolated trees and their hedges of poplars which stained them with shade. To the right and to the left the

forests were like the walls of an ancient ampitheater which enclosed the fighting gladiators, while the springs,

the fountains and the flowing brooks seemed to sob amid the panic of the country.

Beneath the shed Francoise still sat near Dominique's body; she had not moved. Pere Merlier had

received a slight wound. The Prussians were exterminated, but the ruined mill was on fire in a dozen places.

The French rushed into the courtyard, headed by their captain. It was his first success of the war. His face

On seeing the wounded miller, who was endeavoring to comfort Francoise, and noticing the body

of Dominique, his joyous look changed to one of sadness. Then he knelt beside the young man and, tearing

"The young man is severely hurt, but life is not extinct; he can be saved!" By the surgeon's orders

Dominique was transported to a neighboring cottage, where he was placed in bed. His wounds were dressed;

restoratives were administered, and he soon recovered consciousness. When he opened his eyes he saw

Francoise sitting beside him and through the open window caught sight of Pere Merlier talking with the

French captain. He passed his hand over his forehead with a bewildered air and said:

In due time Dominique was entirely restored, and when peace again blessed the land he wedded

The mill was rebuilt, and Pere Merlier had a new wheel upon which to bestow whatever tenderness