untry was full of Cossacks, Landwehr,[1] and Kaiserlichs.[2] Their
batteries were still in position around the town, though they no longer
discharged them; the gates were open, and the people went out and in to
secure their crops.

[1] German militiamen.

[2] German imperial troops.

There was great need of the wheat and rye, and you can imagine the
suffering it caused us, to feed so many thousands of useless beings,
who denied themselves nothing, and who wanted bacon and schnapps every
day.

Before every door and at every window there was nothing to be seen but
their flat noses, their long filthy yellow beards, their white coats
filled with vermin, and their low shakos, looking out at you, as they
smoked their pipes in idleness and drunkenness. We were obliged to
work for them, and at last honest people were compelled to give them
two thousand millions of francs more to induce them to go away.

How many things I might say against these lazybones from Russia and
Germany, if we had not done ten times worse in their country. You can
each one make reflections for yourself, and imagine the rest.

At Heitz's inn I said to Buche, "Let's stop here. My legs are giving
out."

Mother Heitz, who was then still a young woman, threw up her hands and
exclaimed, "My God! there is Joseph Bertha! God in heaven! what a
surprise for the town!"

I went in, sat down and leaned my head on a table and wept without
restraint.

Mother Heitz ran down to the cellar to bring a bottle of wine, and I
heard Buche sobbing in the corner. Neither of us could speak for
thinking of the joy of our friends. The sight of our own country had
upset us, and we rejoiced to think that our bones would one day rest
peacefully in the village cemetery. Meanwhile we were going to embrace
those we loved best in the world.

When we had recovered a little, I said to Buche:

"Jean, you must go on before me, so that my wife and Mr. Goulden may
not be too much surprised. You will tell them that you saw me the day
after the battle, and that I was not wounded, and then you must say,
you met me again in the suburbs of Paris, and even on the way home, and
at last, that you think I am not far behind, that I am coming--you
understand."

"Yes, I understand," said he, getting up after having emptied his
glass, "and I will do the same thing for grandmother, who loves me more
than she does the other boys; I will send some one on before me."

He went out