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“Pere Milon,” he said, in French, “since we came here we have had nothing to say of you but praise. You have always been obliging, and even considerate toward us. But to-day a terrible accusation rests on you, and the matter must be cleared up. How did you get the wound on your face?”

The peasant gave no reply.

The Colonel went on:

“Your silence condemns you, Pere Milon. But I want you to answer me, do you understand? Do you know who has killed the two uhlans who were found this morning near the crossroads?”

The old man said in a clear voice:

“It was I!”

The Colonel, surprised, remained silent for a second, looking steadfully at the prisoner. Pere Milon maintained his impassive demeanor, his air of rustic stupidity, with downcast eyes, as if he were talking to his cure. There was only one thing that could reveal his internal agitation, the way in which he slowly swallowed his saliva with a visible effort, as if he were choking.

The old peasant’s family–his son Jean, his daughter-in-law, and two little children stood ten paces behind, scared and dismayed.

The Colonel continued:

“Do you know also who killed all the scouts of our army whom we have found every morning, for the past month, lying here and there in the fields?”

The old man answered with the same brutal impassiveness:

“It was I!”

“It is you, then, that killed them all?”

“All of them-yes, it was I.”

“You alone?”

“I alone.”

“Tell me the way you managed to do it?”

This time the peasant appeared to be affected; the necessity of speaking at some length incommoded him.

“I know myself. I did it the way I found easiest.”

The Colonel proceeded:

“I warn you, you must tell me everything. You will do well, therefore, to make up your mind about it at once. How did you begin it?”

The peasant cast an uneasy glance toward his family, who remained in a listening attitude behind him. He hesitated for another second or so, then all of a sudden he came to a resolution on the matter.

“I came home one night about ten o’clock, and the next day you were here. You and your soldiers gave me fifty crowns for forage with a cow and two sheep. Said I to myself: ‘As long as I get twenty crowns out of them, I’ll sell them the value of it.’ But then I had other things in my heart, which I’ll tell you about now. I came across one of your cavalrymen smoking his pipe near my dike, just behind my barn. I went and took my scythe off the hook, and I came back with short steps from behind, while he lay there without hearing anything. And I cut off his head with one stroke, like a feather, while he only said ‘Oof!’ You have only to look at the bottom of the pond; you’ll find him there in a coal bag with a big stone tied to it.

“I got an idea into my head. I took all he had on him from his boots to his cap, and I hid them in the bakehouse in the Martin wood behind the farmyard.”

The old man stopped. The officers, speechless, looked at one another. The examination was resumed, and this is what they were told.

Once he had accomplished this murder, the peasant lived with only one thought: “To kill the Prussians!” He hated them with the sly and ferocious hatred of a countryman who was at the same time covetous and patriotic. He had got an idea into his head, as he put it. He waited for a few days.

He was allowed to go and come freely, to go out and return just as he pleased, as long as he displayed humility, submissiveness, and complaisance toward the conquerors.

Now, every evening he saw the cavalrymen bearing dispatches leaving the farmhouse; and he went out, one night, after discovering the name of the village to which they were going, and after picking up by associating with the soldiers the few words of German he needed.