I had but one wish and sense of duty at that moment, namely, to carry
home those dear remains to the resting-place of his father in Anjou,
where I hope myself to rest. It was of no use to tell me that all
places would be alike to my Philippe when we should awake on the
Resurrection day. I was past reason, and was possessed with a
feeling that I would be sacrilege to leave him among the countless
unnamed graves of the wounded who, like him, had struggled as far as
Brisach to die. I fancied I should not be able to find him, and,
besides, it was an enemy's country! I believe opposition made me
talk wildly and terrify my brother; at any rate, he swore to me that
the thing should be done, if only I would return to Nancy and to my
child. I fancied, most unjustly, that this was meant to deceive me,
and get me out of the way while they buried him whom I loved so much,
and I refused to stir without the coffin.
How my brother contrived it, I do not know, but the thing was done,
and though I was but a cart that carried the coffin to Nancy, I was
pacified.
At Nancy he arranged matters more suitably. Here M. d'Aubepine, in
floods of tears, took leave of me to return to the army, and M. de
Solivet, whose wound disabled him from active service, undertook to
escort me and my precious to Anjou.
It was a long tedious journey, and my heart beats with gratitude to
him when I think what he undertook for me, and how dreary it must
have been for him, while I was too dead and dull to thank him, though
I hope my love and confidence evinced my gratitude in after life.
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