The Peasent's Confession

"Si le maréchal Grouchy avait été rejoint par l'officier que
     Napoléon lui avait expédié la veille à dix heures du soir, toute
     question eût disparu. Mais cet officier n'était point parvenu à sa
     destination, ainsi que le maréchal n'a cessé de l'affirmer toute sa
     vie, et il faut l'en croire, car autrement il n'aurait eu aucune
     raison pour hésiter. Cet officier avait-il été pris? avait-il passé à
     l'ennemi? C'est ce qu'on a toujours ignoré."
          --Thiers: Histoire de l'Empire. "Waterloo."

     GOOD Father!... 'Twas an eve in middle June,
       And war was waged anew
     By great Napoleon, who for years had strewn
       Men's bones all Europe through.

     Three nights ere this, with columned corps he'd crossed
       The Sambre at Charleroi,
     To move on Brussels, where the English host
       Dallied in Parc and Bois.

     The yestertide we'd heard the gloomy gun
       Growl through the long-sunned day
     From Quatre-Bras and Ligny; till the dun
       Twilight suppressed the fray;

     Albeit therein--as lated tongues bespoke--
       Brunswick's high heart was drained,
     And Prussia's Line and Landwehr, though unbroke,
       Stood cornered and constrained.

     And at next noon-time Grouchy slowly passed
       With thirty thousand men:
     We hoped thenceforth no army, small or vast,
       Would trouble us again.

     My hut lay deeply in a vale recessed,
       And never a soul seemed nigh
     When, reassured at length, we went to rest--
       My children, wife, and I.

     But what was this that broke our humble ease?
       What noise, above the rain,
     Above the dripping of the poplar trees
       That smote along the pane?

     --A call of mastery, bidding me arise,
       Compelled me to the door,
     At which a horseman stood in martial guise--
       Splashed--sweating from every pore.

     Had I seen Grouchy? Yes? Which track took he?
       Could I lead thither on?--
     Fulfilment would ensure gold pieces three,
       Perchance more gifts anon.

     "I bear the Emperor's mandate," then he said,
       "Charging the Marshal straight
     To strike between the double host ahead
       Ere they co-operate,

     "Engaging Blücher till the Emperor put
       Lord Wellington to flight,
     And next the Prussians. This to set afoot
       Is my emprise to-night."

     I joined him in the mist; but, pausing, sought
       To estimate his say,
     Grouchy had made for Wavre; and yet, on thought,
       I did not lead that way.

     I mused: "If Grouchy thus instructed be,
       The clash comes sheer hereon;
     My farm is stript. While, as for pieces three,
       Money the French have none.

     "Grouchy unwarned, moreo'er, the English win,
       And mine is left to me--
     They buy, not borrow."--Hence did I begin
       To lead him treacherously.

     By Joidoigne, near to east, as we ondrew,
       Dawn pierced the humid air;
     And eastward faced I with him, though I knew
       Never marched Grouchy there.

     Near Ottignies we passed, across the Dyle
       (Lim'lette left far aside),
     And thence direct toward Pervez and Noville
       Through green grain, till he cried:

     "I doubt thy conduct, man! no track is here
       I doubt they gagèd word!"
     Thereat he scowled on me, and pranced me near,
       And pricked me with his sword.

     "Nay, Captain, hold! We skirt, not trace the course
       Of Grouchy," said I then:
     "As we go, yonder went he, with his force
       Of thirty thousand men."

     --At length noon nighed, when west, from Saint-John's-Mound,
       A hoarse artillery boomed,
     And from Saint-Lambert's upland, chapel-crowned,
       The Prussian squadrons loomed.

     Then to the wayless wet gray ground he leapt;
       "My mission fails!" he cried;
     "Too late for Grouchy now to intercept,
       For, peasant, you have lied!"

     He turned to pistol me. I sprang, and drew
       The sabre from his flank,
     And 'twixt his nape and shoulder, ere he knew,
       I struck, and dead he sank.

     I hid him deep in nodding rye and oat--
       His shroud green stalks and loam;
     His requiem the corn-blade's husky note--
       And then I hastened home....

     --Two armies writh