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Le 13e Hussards, types, profils, esquisses et croquis militaires... á pied et á cheval by Emile Gaboriau
-Mille millions de tonnerres! s'écria le hussard Gédéon Flambert, j'y vois clair à la fin. Moi qui m'étais engagé pour servir glorieusement ma patrie, je suis tout simplement entré au service d'un cheval-de mon cheval.
Encore, ai-je bien le droit de l'appeler mon cheval, et n'est-ce pas lui, qui, à plus juste titre, pourrait dire: mon cavalier?
Le hussard Gédéon, de garde d'écurie ce soir-là était alors à demi couché sur une botte de paille. Pour la première fois, depuis cinq mois qu'il était soldat, il trouvait un instant pour réfléchir.
-Oui, continua-t-il, tout pour mon cheval, impossible de sortir de là. C'est, ma parole d'honneur, à en être jaloux. Je lui appartiens comme l'ombre au corps, ma vie est à lui, il l'absorbe, il la dévore. Car enfin, à quoi se passent mes jours, qu'ai-je fait aujourd'hui?
Ce matin, à cinq heures, bien avant le jour, j'ai été éveillé par les éclats enragés des trompettes.-Premier déjeuner et toilette de mon cheval.
Nouveau coup de trompette à six heures; pansage.-Cinq quarts d'heure durant j'ai étrillé, brossé, bouchonné, épongé, peigné mon cheval.
A neuf heures, promenade de mon cheval.
A midi, autre repas de mon cheval.
A deux heures, second pansage de mon cheval, nouveaux soins, autre repas.
A sept heures enfin, souper de mon cheval.
Et encore et toujours mon cheval! Pour lui on a remis en vigueur le cérémonial décrété par Caligula à l'usage de celui dont il fit un consul.
Cependant mon cheval est en bonne santé. Que serait-ce, grand Dieu! s'il était au régime. Je tremble à la seule pensée qu'il peut tomber malade et qu'alors je deviendrais son infirmier.
Mes journées ne lui suffisent pas, il lui faut mes nuits. Ainsi, à cette heure, lorsque je serais si aise de reposer dans mon lit, je suis ici de garde d'écurie, c'est-à-dire que je vais passer la nuit à veiller sur le sommeil de mon cheval, et du cheval de mon brigadier, et des chevaux de tous mes camarades...
-Garde d'écurie! cria une voix formidable, garde d'écurie!
D'un bond, Gédéon fut sur pied et en présence du brigadier de semaine qui faisait une ronde.
-Je présuppose que vous dormiez, dit sévèrement le brigadier; vous aurez le plaisir de me faire celui de deux jours de consigne.
-Brigadier, je vous assure...
-Silence dans le rrrang ou je réitère. Que je sais que les chevaux ils se plaignent que vos ronflements ils les empêchent de dormir.
Il n'y avait rien à répondre. Le brigadier s'éloigna en amortissant le bruit de ses pas, afin de surprendre quelque autre délinquant.
-évidemment, se dit Gédéon, je suis dans mon tort. Je songerai une autre fois à ne plus réfléchir, mieux vaut dormir maintenant et tacher de mériter ma punition. Mais pourquoi diable me suis-je engagé! Pourquoi ai-je été précisément choisir la cavalerie?
Pourquoi?
This early work by Émile Gaboriau was originally published in the late 19th century and we are now republishing it with a brand new introduction.
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Elena, once a pampered heiress, suddenly lost everything when the real daughter framed her, her fiancé ridiculed her, and her adoptive parents threw her out. They all wanted to see her fall. But Elena unveiled her true identity: the heiress of a massive fortune, famed hacker, top jewelry designer, secret author, and gifted doctor. Horrified by her glorious comeback, her adoptive parents demanded half her newfound wealth. Elena exposed their cruelty and refused. Her ex pleaded for a second chance, but she scoffed, “Do you think you deserve it?” Then a powerful magnate gently proposed, “Marry me?”
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