WAS it a living woman there, Crouched by the barricade? I said, "We have shelter and food to spare, Come in and rest, for the game is played." For a moment she lifted her heavy head, Lifted her heavily drooping hair, For a moment as a bayonet blade Gleams in a flying moonbeam, gleamed Her face upon me passionate-eyed— But calm as a girl's at her needle seemed Her voice as she replied. "'Tis not worth while to rest," she said, "I shall soon be dead." Sunny and still was the long white street; You might have fancied the gracious and gay City was sleeping away the heat Of a cloudless summer day. Not a soul save her in the street— But hark! There's the regular tramp of marching feet! They are coming, the Versaillais. By bridge and boulevard marching on, Like conquerors proud of a battle won, Like avengers glad of a vengeance done; And never a man to meet them there! Will no one face them? Will no one dare Fire a last shot for the barricade? Yes—a shot, another and yet another, One racing close on the heels of the other, Six flying straight for the ranks, that swayed Back for a startled moment, then Hoarsely roaring for slaughter and strife, With a tiger bound took the barricade. Throbbed in their ears as on they came The low fierce voice of a distant flame, Pouring over with bullet and knife, They were ready to clash with a murderous horde, Ready to close with desperate men, Eager to struggle and smite and wade Onward as conquerors, deep in blood. But not to face one woman, one Waiting them there alone. As a tiger the lone hunter's eye Baulks in its spring and holds amazed, Growling, crouched reluctantly, Thus paused they and thus gazed. Still as herself the captain stood Awhile and then there clashed his sword, Suddenly dropping into its sheath. "You're a brave woman, you! Two of my men shot dead!" "But two? God forgive me! It is too few. I should have taken a life for a life. All of us, all you have done to death, The father first, but the boys fought well 'They will live to avenge us yet,' I said. Two of the four at Neuilly fell And two—just here I found them dead. But I not yet am wholly slain— Finish your work. Fire once again." |