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Updated: June 8, 2025
Yet he felt there was something strong and sensible and true about it all, and craving sympathy he made Garneret the confidant of his passion, telling the tale in accents of despair and bitterness, though secretly proud to be the tortured victim of such fine emotions. But Garneret expressed no admiration. "My dear fellow," said he, "you have got all these romantic notions out of trashy novels.
A fat boy, standing by himself with his face to the wall with the unconcern born of long familiarity with this form of punishment, clapped his two hands to his mouth trumpetwise and shrieked: "Ewans, you're wanted in the parlour." The usher marched up: "Garneret," he ordered, "you will stand half an hour this evening at preparation speaking when you were forbidden to. Ewans, go to the parlour."
They have been thundering for a month, and no one so much as hears them now. Servien and Garneret, wearing the red-piped képi and the tunic with brass buttons, are seated side by side on sand-bags, bending over the same book. It was a Virgil, and Jean was reading out loud the delicious episode of Silenus.
It is not my way to interfere with what does not concern me; but as I see the matter is serious, I am going to ask you, for his own good, to tell me who it is, if you know her." Garneret shrugged his shoulders: "An actress! a tragedy actress! pooh!" The bookbinder pondered a moment; then: "Look you, Monsieur Garneret, I acted for the best in my poor boy's interest, but I blame myself.
It was my way of checking his work; because, ignoramus as he may be, a man can see, with a little common sense, what is done properly and what is scamped. Well, Monsieur Garneret, I was terrified to find in his themes so many high-flown ideas; some of them were very fine, no doubt, and I copied out on a paper those that struck me most.
The sight of tipsy shopkeepers in a frenzy of foolish ardour, half drink, half patriotism, sickened him, and this playing at soldiers, tramping through the mud on an empty stomach, struck him as after all an odious, ugly business. Luckily Garneret was his comrade in the ranks, and Servien felt the salutary effect of that well-stored, well-ordered mind, the servant of duty and stern reality.
The same ill-luck still pursued Garneret; from morn to eve he was engaged on prodigiously laborious hack-work for a map-maker, who paid him the wages of one of his office boys; but his big head was crammed with projects.
Garneret only buried his face between his hands. It was above his comprehension. "But come," he said, "the woman is no differently constituted from other women!" Obvious as it was, this consideration filled Jean Servien with amazement. It shocked him so much that, rather than admit its truth, he racked his brains in desperation to find arguments to controvert the blasphemy.
The Nationals proffered them handfuls of tobacco and asked for news. But the wounded men only shook their heads and trudged stolidly on their way. "Aren't we to have some fighting soon as well as other fellows?" cried Garneret. To which Servien growled back: "We must first put down the traitors and incapables who govern us, proclaim the Commune and march all together against the Prussians."
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