These good people related such singular things to each other—things which they declared they had seen with their own eyes, or heard from the best authority—that it was scarcely possible to believe them.
Out of doors, the uproar, the rumbling of carts, the bellowing of the cattle, the shouts of the drovers, and clamour of the fugitives in general, continued as loud as ever, and produced the effect of an immense and universal boom. Towards noon, Materne and his sons were just going to set off, when a shout, greater and more prolonged than the others, was heard: "The Cossacks! the Cossacks!"
Then every one rushed out except our mountaineers, who contented themselves with opening a window and looking out. Everybody fled across the fields; men,'ocks, vehicles, all dispersed like leaves before the winds of autumn.
In less than two minutes the road was clear, except in Schirmeck, where such uproar and confusion reigned that you could not take four steps for the crowd.
Materne, looking far down the road, exclaimed, "It's no good my looking, for I can see nothing."
"Nor I, either," replied Kasper.
"Ah! I see, I see!" pursued the old huntsman, "that the terror of all these people gives the enemy greater power than they really possess. It is not thus that we will receive the Cossacks in the mountain, as they shall find to their cost!"
Then shrugging his shoulders with an expression of contempt: "Fear is a villanous thing," said he; "for, after all, we have but a poor life to lose. Come, let us be going."
On quitting the tavern, the old man having taken the road that lay through the valley to ascend the summit of the Hirschberg, his sons followed him. They soon reached the outskirts of the wood. Materne then said that they must climb to the greatest possible height, in order to discover the plain, and bring back positive news to the camp, for that all the reports of those fugitives were not worth the testimony of a single eye-witness.
Kasper and Frantz agreed with him, and they all three began to scale the side of the mountain, which in this part formed a sort of promontory overlooking the plain.
When they had reached the summit, they saw distinctly the position of the enemy, about three leagues off, between Urmatt and Lutzelhouse; they looked likegreat black lines upon the snow; farther off were to be seen some dark masses, no doubt the artillery and the baggage. Other masses were to be discerned round about the villages, and, in spite of the distance, the glitter of bayonets announced that a column had just set out on the march for Visch.
Having contemplated this picture for a long time with a thoughtful eye, the old man said: "We have down there a good thirty thousand men under our very eyes. They are advancing on our side; we shall be attacked to-morrow, or the day after, at the very latest. This will be no trifling affair, my lads; but if they've the advantage of numbers, we have in position; and then it's always best to fire on a mass; there's sure to be no balls lost."
Having made these judicious reflections, he looked up to observe at what height the sun was, and added: "It is now two o'clock; we know all we want to know. Let us return to the camp."
The two lads swung their carbines over their shoulders, and leaving on their left the valley of the Brocque, Schirmeck, and Framont, they ascended the steep acclivity of the Hengsbach, overlooked at two leagues' distance by the Little Donon. They re-descended on the other side without following any footpath through the snow, only tracing their course over the mountain tops as the shortest way to reach their journey's end.
They had proceeded thus for about two hours; the winter sun was sinking in the horizon; night was approaching; night, but bright and calm. They had now only to descend, and remount, on the other side, the solitary gorge of the Reil, forming a large circularbasin in the midst of the woods, and enclosing a little dark pool, where the wild roe sometimes came to slake their thirst.
All at once, as they were striding along, thinking of nothing in particular, the old man, suddenly stopping behind a curtain of shrubs, said, "Hush!"
And raising his hand, he pointed to the little lake, then covered with a thin and transparent coating of ice. His two boys had only to glance in that direction to witness the strangest sight. About twenty Cossacks, with rough yellow beards, their heads covered with old seal-skin caps, shaped like the funnel of a stove, their lean forms clad in long tatters, their feet in stirrups made of old cords, were sitting on their little horses with long floating manes, thin tails, the crupper spotted with yellow, white, and black, like goats. Some had for sole weapon a long lance, others a sabre, others a hatchet suspended by a cord to the saddle, and a large holster pistol attached to their belt. Several, with upturned faces, were looking delightedly and admiringly at the dark green tops of the fir trees, reaching one above the other till finally lost in the clouds. One tall, bony fellow was breaking the ice with the thick end of his lance, while his little horse drank, with outstretched neck and long mane falling beardwise down each cheek. Some among them, having alighted, were clearing away the snow, and pointing to the wood, no doubt to indicate that it was a good place for encamping. Their comrades, still on horseback, were talking together, and showing on their right the bottom of the valley, lying low like a gap as far as the Grinderwald.
In short, it was a halt, and it would be impossibleto describe the strange and picturesque appearance which these beings from far-off lands, with their bronzed countenances, long beards, black eyes, low foreheads, flat noses, tattered grey coats, presented on the borders of that still lake, and under those steep rocks, with their tall fir-crowned summits reaching to the skies.
It seemed like a glimpse of another and a different world to them, a species of unknown, curious, and strange game, that the three red huntsmen began to gaze upon at first with a singular curiosity. But that over, at the end of five minutes, Kasper and Frantz fixed their long bayonets at the end of their carbines, then stepped stealthily about twenty paces backwards into the covert. They reached a rock of fifteen to twenty feet high, which Materne ascended, being unarmed; then, after a few words, exchanged in a low voice, Kasper examined his priming, and slowly took aim, while his brother stood close at hand.
One of the Cossacks, the same who was letting his horse drink, was about a hundred paces off. As Kasper's shot awoke the deep echoes of the gorge, the Cossack, rolling over the head of his steed, disappeared beneath the ice of the lake. It is impossible to describe the stupefied surprise of his comrades when they heard the shot and witnessed its effect. They stared about them in every direction as the echo gradually died away, while a thick puff of smoke appeared above the cluster of trees where the huntsmen were.
Kasper, in less than a quarter of a minute, had re-loaded his gun; but, in the same space of time, the Cossacks, who had alighted, leapt upon their horses, and set off at full speed in the direction of the Hartz,following one behind the other like roebucks, and shouting wildly, "Hurrah! hurrah!"
This flight seemed like a vision, for just as Kasper was taking aim for the second time, the tail of the last horse disappeared among the bushes.
The horse of the dead Cossack was left alone standing by the water, held there by a strange circumstance—his master, plunged headlong in the mud to the waist, had still his foot in the stirrup.
Materne, perched upon his rock, listened and then joyfully exclaimed: "They are gone! Well, let us go and see. Frantz, remain here; if some of them should return."
But in spite of this wise counsel, they all three came down to the horse; Materne immediately seized the bridle, saying, "Well, old fellow, we'll teach you to speak French."
"Come along, then," exclaimed Kasper.
"No; we must see what we have brought down. Look you, this will encourage the others; dogs are never well broke in till they have scented the game."
They then fished the dead Cossack out of the pond, and having thrown him across the horse, they began to climb the side of the Donon by a footpath so steep that Materne kept repeating, a hundred times over, "The horse will never be able to pass this way."
But the horse, lean and agile as a mountain goat, passed more easily than they, which led the old huntsman to say at length: "These Cossacks have famous horses. When I grow quite old, I shall keep this one to go hunting with. We've got a famous horse, boys; he looks like a cow, but he's got the strength of a dray-horse."
Occasionally, too, he made reflections on the Cossack: "What a droll face, eh? a round nose, and a forehead like a cheese-box. There are, for certain, some strange fellows in the world! You took good aim at him, Kasper; hit him just in the middle of the chest; and see, the ball has come out at the back. Famous powder; Divès always keeps capital stuff."
About six o'clock they heard the first challenge of their sentinels: "Who goes there?"
"France!" replied Materne, advancing.
Everybody ran to meet them, exclaiming, "Here is Materne!"
Hullin himself, as curious as the rest, could not help running up with Doctor Lorquin. The men were already crowding round the horse, staring at him in open-mouthed wonder, by the side of a large fire where their supper was cooking.
"It is a Cossack," said Hullin, pressing the hand of Materne.
"Yes, Jean-Claude; we caught him just by the lake of the Riel: it was Kasper who shot him."
They placed the corpse near the fire, the bright flickering rays of which reflected fantastic shadows on his countenance, of a dingy yellow.
Doctor Lorquin, having looked at him, said, "It is a fine specimen of the Tartar race; if I had time, I would scald him in a bath of quicklime to procure a skeleton of the tribe." Then, kneeling beside him, and opening his long grey riding-coat, "The ball has traversed the pericardium," said he; "which produces very nearly the effect of aneurism of the heart."
The others were silent.
Kasper stood leaning on his gun, and seeminglyquite satisfied with his game; while old Materne, rubbing his hands, said, "I was sure I should bring you back something; my boys and I never come back empty-handed. And there it is!"
Hullin then drawing him apart, they entered the farm together, whilst, after the first moment of surprise, every one began to make his own personal reflections on the Cossack.
illustration
CHAPTER XIV.
That same night, which happened to fall on a Saturday, the little farm of the Anabaptist never ceased for a moment to be full of people coming and going.
Hullin had established his head-quarters in the large room on the ground floor, to the right of the barn, facing Framont; on the other side was the temporary hospital for the sick and wounded; the part overhead was inhabited by the people belonging to the farm.
Although the night was very calm, and innumerable stars twinkled in the clear sky, the cold was so intense that the ice was nearly an inch thick on the window panes.
Out of doors was heard the challenge of the sentinels going their rounds, and on the neighbouring mountain-tops the howlings of the wolves, who had followed our armies by hundreds since 1812. These carnivorous animals, crouching in the snow, their sharp muzzles between their paws, and hunger gnawing their vitals, called to each other from the Grosmann to the Donon with plaintive moans resembling those of the keen north wind.
Then more than one mountaineer felt himself turn pale.
"It is death that sings," thought they; "it scents the battle, and calls to us!"
The oxen lowed in the stable, and the horses stamped and plunged furiously. About thirty fires were burning around; the Anabaptist's wood-house was ravaged; log was heaped upon log, they roasted their faces, while they shivered at the back; they warmed their backs, and icicles hung from their moustaches.
Hullin alone, sitting at the large deal table, thought of everything. After the latest reports of the evening, announcing the arrival of the Cossacks at Framont, he was convinced that the first attack would take place on the morrow. He had distributed the cartridges, he had doubled the sentinels, ordered the patrols, and allotted all the posts the whole length of the defences. Every one knew beforehand the place he was to occupy. Hullin had also sent word to Piorette, to Jerôme of Saint-Quirin, and to Labarbe to despatch to him their best marksmen.
The little dark passage, lit only by a solitary lantern, was full of snow, and every moment by its dull light were seen passing the leaders of the ambuscade, their hats pulled down to their ears, the large sleeves of their riding coats drawn down to their wrists, with gloomy looks, and their beards stiff with the frost.
Pluto no longer growled at the heavy footsteps of these men. Hullin, plunged in thought, sat with his head between his hands, his elbows on the table, listening to all the reports:
"Master Jean-Claude, there is something moving to be seen in the direction of Grandfontaine; there is a sound like the trampling of horses."
"Master Jean-Claude, the brandy is frozen."
"Master Jean-Claude, there are numbers asking for powder."
"We want this—and that."
"Let them keep a good look out upon Grandfontaine, and change the sentinels on that side every half-hour. Bring the brandy to the fire. Wait till Divès comes; he will bring a fresh supply of ammunition. Distribute the rest of the cartridges, and let those who have more than twenty give some to their comrades."
And this was how it went on all night long.
About five in the morning, Kasper, Materne's son, came to tell Hullin that Marc Divès, with a cartload of cartridges, Catherine Lefévre in another vehicle, and a detachment from Labarbe, had just arrived together, and that they were there awaiting him.
This news pleased him greatly, especially on account of the cartridges, for he had feared the want of them might cause delay.
He rose immediately and went out with Kasper. It was a strange and singular spectacle that met his eye.
At daybreak, masses of thick fog were beginning to rise from the valley, the fires were crackling and sparkling in the mist, and people were lying sleeping about in every direction; here lay one, his hands clasped under his head, his face purple with cold, his legs bent under him; there another, with his cheek on his arm, and his back to the blazing fire; the greater part were sitting, their heads hanging down, and guns slung over their shoulders—a still and silent picture, revealed either in a flood of crimson light, or half hidden in the grey tinge of morning, according as the fire burnt high or low. Farther off, in the distance, the profiles of the sentinels were sharply outlined against the pale sky, as they stood resting on their guns, looking down on the cloud-covered abyss below. To theright, at about fifty paces from the last fire, was heard the neighing of horses, and people stamping with their feet to warm themselves, and talking loud.
"Here is Master Jean-Claude," said Kasper, advancing.
One of the men having thrown some splinters of dry wood on to the fire, there was a blaze, and by its light were seen Marc Divès's men on horseback, a dozen strapping fellows wrapped in their long grey cloaks, their broad-brimmed hats pushed back on to their shoulders, their thick moustaches either turned up, or falling down to their very necks, grouped motionless around the baggage waggon; a little farther on was Catherine Lefévre, crouching among the packages in her cart, her feet buried in the straw, her back against a large barrel; behind her was a cauldron, a gridiron, a pig fresh killed, scalded, white and red, some ropes of onions, and heads of cabbages to make soup; all this was revealed for an instant in the shadow, and then fell back again into darkness.
Divès was a little apart from the convoy, and now rode forward on his great horse. "Is that you, Jean-Claude?"
"Yes, Marc."
"I've some thousand cartridges here. Hexe-Baizel works day and night."
"Good! Good!"
"Yes, old boy. And Catherine Lefévre is bringing provisions, too; she killed yesterday. Where shall we put the powder?"
"Down below there; under the cart-shed, behind the farm. Ah! is that you, Catherine?"
"Yes, Jean-Claude. It is pretty cold this morning."
"You are always the same, then; you are afraid of nothing!"
"Why, should I be a woman if I were not curious? I must poke my nose into everything."
"Yes, you have always excuses to make for whatever you do that is good and right."
"Hullin, you are a babbler; have done with your compliments! Must not those people there have something to eat? Can they live on air through the winter? The open air is not very nourishing in such cold weather as this, when it's just like needles and razors! So I took my measures. Yesterday we slaughtered an ox—you know poor Schwartz—he weighed a good nine hundred weight. I've brought his hind-quarters with me to make soup this morning."
"Catherine, I shall never come to know you," cried Jean-Claude, quite touched; "you always surprise me. Nothing is too much for you; neither money, nor pains, nor trouble."
"Ah!" replied the old woman, rising and jumping out of her cart, "do stop; you bother me, Hullin. I will warm myself."
She threw her horse's reins to Dubourg; then turning, said:—"Anyhow, Jean-Claude, those fires are delightful to look at. But Louise, where is she?"
"Louise has passed the night in cutting out and sewing bandages, with Pelsly's two daughters. She is at the hospital, down below there, where my light is shining."
"Poor child!" said Catherine, "I will run and help her, that will warm me."
At this moment, Divès and his men were taking the powder to the cart-house, and as Jean-Claude approached the nearest fire, what was not his surprise to see among those surrounding it, the fool Yégof, with his crown on his head, gravely seated on a stone, his feet on the embers, and with his rags draped around him like a royal mantle. Nothing more singular can be imagined than the appearance of this strange figure in the firelight. Yégof was the only one of the number who was awake, and he might really have been taken for some barbarous king, musing in the midst of his sleeping horde of savages.
Hullin, for his part, saw only a fool, and gently touching his shoulder: "How are you, Yégof?" said he, in an ironical tone; "you have come, then, to lend the succour of your invincible arm, and your innumerable armies!"
The fool, without betraying the least surprise, replied: "That depends upon you, Hullin; your own fate, with every one else's, is in your hands. Here are we, just as we were sixteen hundred years ago, on the eve of a great battle. Then I, the leader of so many peoples, I came to your khan to demand the passage."
"Sixteen hundred years ago!" said Hullin; "what the deuce, Yégof, that makes us terribly old! But, after all, what does it matter? Every one has his own notion of things."
"Yes," replied the fool, "but, with your usual obstinacy, you would not listen to anything. The dead lay in heaps on the Blutfeld, and those dead cry aloud for vengeance!"
"Ah! the Blutfeld," said Jean-Claude; "yes, yes, it's an old story; I think I've heard tell of it."
Yégof's brow grew crimson; his eyes flashed fire. "You boast of your victory!" he exclaimed, "but takecare, take care: blood calls for blood." Then, in a gentler tone: "Listen," added he, "I wish you no ill: you are brave; the children of your race may mingle with those of mine."
"Ah! now he is coming back again to Louise," thought Jean-Claude; and, anticipating a formal demand: "Yégof," said he, "I am sorry, but I must leave you; I have so many things to see to——"
The fool did not wait the end of this leave-taking, and rising with his face convulsed with rage: "You refuse me your daughter!" he exclaimed, pointing upwards with a solemn air. "And it is for the third time! Beware! Beware!"
Hullin, despairing of making him listen to reason, hastily withdrew; but the fool, in furious accents, addressed to him as he went these strange words:
"Huldrix, woe to thee! Thy last hour is near. Wolves will feast again upon thy flesh. All is over. I let loose upon thee the tempests of my rage. For thee and thine let there be neither grace, nor pity, nor mercy. Thou hast willed it so." And, throwing a portion of his ragged robe over his left shoulder, he strode rapidly away towards the summit of the Donon.
Several of the mountaineers, half awakened by his cries, watched him with a dull eye as his retreating form disappeared in the darkness; they heard a sound like the flapping of wings; then, as in the vision of a dream, they turned round, and went to sleep again.
About an hour after, Lagarmitte's horn sounded thereveille. In a few seconds, every one was up and stirring.
The leaders of the ambuscade assembled their men. Some proceeded towards the cart-house, and distributed the cartridges; while others filled their flasks withbrandy from the barrel. All this was done with the utmost order; then each division repaired, with its leader at its head, in the early twilight, towards the barricades on the mountain side.
When the sun appeared, all round the farm was silent and deserted, and with the exception of five or six fires, which were still smoking, there was nothing to announce that the volunteers occupied every point of the mountain, and that they had passed the night in that spot. Hullin then took a snack, and drank a glass of wine with his friends, Doctor Lorquin and the Anabaptist, Pelsly. Lagarmitte was with them, for he was to remain with Jean-Claude all the day, and transmit his orders in case of need.
illustration
CHAPTER XV.
Seven o'clock, and yet not the slightest movement was perceptible in the valley. From time to time Doctor Lorquin would throw up the sash of a window in the house-room, and look out; there was nothing stirring; the fires were out; all was still and silent.
Opposite the farm, about a hundred paces off, on a sloping wall, lay the Cossack shot the evening before by Kasper; he was white as snow, and hard as a flint.
Within doors, a large fire was burning brightly in the stove. Louise was sitting beside her father, and regarding him with a look of ineffable sweetness; it seemed as if she feared she might never see him again; her red eyes betrayed that she had just been shedding tears. Hullin, though firm, seemed greatly moved.
The doctor and the Anabaptist, both grave and solemn, were talking of present affairs, and Lagarmitte was listening to them attentively.
"We have not only the right, but it is also our duty, to defend ourselves," the doctor was saying; "these woods were laid out and cultivated by our fathers; they are our lawful property."
"No doubt," replied the Anabaptist, in a sententious tone; "but it is written, 'Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not shed thy brother's blood.'"
Catherine Lefévre, who was just at that time busy with a rasher of ham, and who was doubtless tired of this discussion, turned sharply round, and replied, "Which means that, if we were of your religion, the Germans, the Russians, and all the other red men would be allowed to have everything their own way. Yours is a famous religion; yes, famous for such scum as those! It gives them the license to rob and plunder all who are better off than themselves. The Allies would like us to have such a one, no doubt! Unluckily, every one is not of the same opinion. We are not all like sheep, ready for the slaughter; and I, for one, Pelsly, without meaning any offence to you, think it is rather stupid to fatten oneself for the good of others. For all that, you are worthy people, no doubt; no one can say to the contrary; you have been reared from father to son in the same ideas: like father, like son. But we intend to defend ourselves, in spite of you; and when all is over, you shall make us speeches on the subject of eternal peace. I am very fond of listening to lectures on peace when I've nothing else to do, and am sitting by the fire after dinner; it does me good to hear them."
Having spoken in this way, she turned to the fire, and went on quietly cooking her ham.
Pelsly remained staring open-mouthed at her, and Doctor Lorquin could not restrain a smile.
At the same moment, the door opened, and one of the sentinels on duty outside called out: "Master Jean-Claude, come and see; I think they are on the alert."
"All right, Simon, I am coming," said Hullin, rising. "Louise, kiss me; courage, my child; do not be afraid; all will go well."
He pressed her to his breast, his eyes swimming withtears. For her part, she seemed more dead than alive. "And above all," said the worthy man, addressing Catherine, "let nobody go out, and let none approach the windows."
Then he rushed hastily forth.
All the spectators had turned pale.
When Master Jean-Claude had reached the edge of the terrace, casting his eyes over Grandfontaine and Framont, which lay about nine thousand feet below him, this is what he saw.
The Germans arrived the evening before, some hours after the Cossacks, having passed the night, to the number of five or six thousand, in the barns, stables, and outhouses, were now bustling and hurrying about in all directions. It was a regular ant-hill. They were issuing from every door in files of ten, fifteen, and twenty, hastening to buckle on their knapsacks, hook on their swords, and fix their bayonets.
Others, horsemen, Cossacks, hussars in green, grey, and blue uniforms, trimmed with red and yellow; caps of oil-skin, sheepskin, shakos, and helmets, were saddling their horses, and hastily rolling up their large holsters.
The officers, their cloaks flung over their arms, were descending the little narrow stairs, some with upturned heads scanning the country round, others kissing the women on the threshold of the houses they were leaving.
The trumpeters, one hand resting on their hips, the other elbow aloft, were sounding the rappel at every corner of the street; the drummers were tightening the cords of their drums. In short, in this space, which, seen from a distance, looked like a hand's-breadth,might be seen every description of military attitude at the moment of departure.
Some peasants, leaning out of their windows, were watching all this; the women showed themselves at the windows of the lofts. The innkeepers were busy filling flasks, corporalschlague[9]standing beside them.
Hullin had a quick eye, nothing escaped him: he took in all this at a glance, and besides, he had been used to this sort of thing for many a long year; but Lagarmitte, who had never seen anything of the kind before, was stupefied with surprise:
"There are a good many of them!" said he, shaking his head.
"Ah! bah! what does that prove?" said Hullin. "In my time, we have exterminated three armies of fifty thousand of the same race, in six months; we were not one against four. All those you see there would not have made our breakfast. And besides, you may make your mind easy, we shall not need to kill them all; they'll fly before us like hares. I've seen that before now!"
After these sage reflections, he judged it prudent to go and inspect his company again.
"Come on!" said he to the shepherd.
They both then, advancing behind the barricades, shaped their course along a path cut through the snow two days before. These snows, hardened by the frost, were now become as solid and firm as ice. The trees, as they lay in front all covered with hoar-frost, formed an impenetrable barrier, which extended for about six hundred metres. The road lay hollowed out below.
As he approached, Jean-Claude saw the mountaineersof the Dagsberg, crouching at intervals of twenty paces in a sort of round nests which they had dug out for themselves.
All these brave fellows were sitting on their knapsacks, their flask on their right, their hats, or fox-skin caps, pushed to the back of their necks, their guns between their knees. They had only to rise in order to see the road at fifty paces beneath them, at the foot of a slippery descent.
They were delighted to see Hullin.
"Eh! Master Jean-Claude, is it going to begin soon?"
"Yes, my lads; don't be afraid; before an hour we shall be hard at it."
"Ah! So much the better!"
"Yes, but above all, mind your aim; breast high; don't be in a hurry; and be careful to show no more flesh than is necessary."
"Never fear, Master Jean-Claude."
He went farther on; everywhere he was received in the same way.
"Do not forget," said he, "to stop firing when Lagarmitte sounds his horn. We must have no waste of powder and shot."
When he came up with old Materne, who commanded all these men, to the number of about two hundred and fifty, he found the old huntsman just preparing to smoke a pipe, his nose as red as a live coal, and his beard bristling with cold like a wild boar.
"Ah! is that you, Jean-Claude?"
"Yes, I've come to shake hands with you."
"All right; but tell me—they seem in no hurry to come—if they should happen to pass another way?"
"No fear of that. They must take this road for the artillery and baggage. Hark! there's the bugle—to boot and saddle!"
"Yes, I saw that before; they are preparing." Then, with a low chuckle:
"You don't know, Jean-Claude, just now, as I was looking towards Grandfontaine, what a droll thing I saw."
"What was that, old boy?"
"I saw four Germans lay hold of the fat Dubreuil, the friend of the Allies; they laid him down on the stone bench at his door, and one tall bony fellow gave him I don't know how many blows with a stout stick over his back. Didn't he bellow, the old rascal! I'll wager he has refused something to his good friends; his old wine of the year 1811, for instance."
Hullin listened no further, for happening to cast a glance down upon the valley, he had just seen a regiment of infantry debouch on the road. Farther off, in the street, the cavalry were advancing, with five or six officers galloping at their head.
"Ah! ha! they are coming now in good earnest," exclaimed the old soldier, whose countenance suddenly assumed an expression of energy and strange enthusiasm.
Then he sprang upon the trench, exclaiming:
"My children, attention!"
As he passed, he caught a glimpse of Riffi, the little tailor of the Charmes, leaning upon a long gun; the little man had made a step in the snow to take aim. Higher up he recognised also the old wood-cutter, Rochart, with his big sabots trimmed with sheepskin; he was taking a hearty draught from hisflask, and then slowly raising himself up, with his carbine under his arm, and his cotton cap over his ear.
And that was all; for in order to survey the whole sphere of action, it was necessary for him to climb to the summit of the Donon, where there is a rock.
Lagarmitte followed him, stretching out his long legs as if he were walking on stilts. Ten minutes after, when they had arrived quite out of breath at the top of the rock, they perceived at four thousand odd feet below them the enemy's column of about three thousand men, with long white coats, cloth gaiters, tall shakos, and red moustaches; the young officers with flat cap, riding at regular distances among the troops, caracoling on horseback, sword in hand, and turning round from time to time to call out, in a shrill voice: "Forvertz! Forvertz!" (Forward! Forward!)
And this body bristled with glittering bayonets and advanced at full charge towards the barricades.
Old Materne, his long hawk's nose peering over the branch of a juniper tree, had also observed, with raised eyebrows, the arrival of the Germans. And as he was very clear-sighted, he was able even to distinguish faces among all this crowd; and picked out the one whom he would bring down himself.
In the middle of the column, mounted on a tall bay horse, there came riding straight towards them an old officer with a white wig, three-cornered lace hat, his form enveloped in a yellow mantle, and his breast decorated with orders. When this personage raised his head, the corner of his hat, surmounted by a tuft of black feathers, formed a target. He had long wrinkles in his cheeks, and seemed to be no chicken.
"That's my man!" said the old huntsman to himself, taking aim leisurely.
He cocked his gun, fired, and when he looked, the old officer had disappeared.
Immediately the mountain-side was ablaze with shots the whole length of the entrenchments; but the Germans, without answering, continued to advance towards the entrenchments, gun on shoulder, and keeping the ranks as steadily as if they were on parade.
If the truth must be told, more than one brave mountaineer, the father of a family, when he saw that forest of bayonets which kept on advancing up the mountain, in spite of the shots that were poured on them, began to think that he might perhaps have done better to stay at home in his village than to thrust himself into such an affair. But as the proverb says: "The wine is drawn; it must be drunk!"
Riffi, the little tailor, bethought him of the prudent warning of his wife, Sapience: "Riffi, you will get lamed for life, and that will be a pretty job!"
He promised a superb offering to the chapel of St. Léon if he came back safe and sound from the war; but at the same time he resolved to make good use of his long gun.
Two hundred paces from the barricades the Germans halted and opened a running fire such as had never before been heard on the mountain: it was a regular buzz of shots; balls by hundreds hacked down the branches, made bits of ice leap up in all directions, came crashing down upon the rocks, to the right, to the left, before, behind. They came hissing and whistling through the air at times as thick as a flock of pigeons.
This did not prevent the mountaineers from keepingup their fire, but it could no longer be heard. All the mountain-side was wrapped in a bluish smoke which made it difficult to take aim.
At the end of about ten minutes, the roll of the drum was heard, and all that mass of men began to charge at the abattis, officers as well as others, shouting "Forvertz!"
The ground trembled beneath them.
Materne, drawing himself up to his full height, by the side of the trench, with a voice terrible in its emotion, cried, "Up! Up!"
It was time, for a good number of those Germans, almost all of them students of philosophy, law, or medicine, scarred in skirmishes at Munich, Jena, and elsewhere, and who fought against us because they had been promised that their liberties should be granted them after the downfall of Napoleon; all these intrepid young fellows began to crawl on all-fours over the ice, and attempted to leap into the entrenchments.
But as fast as they climbed up the sides of the mountains, they were stunned with the butt-ends of the guns, and fell back among their ranks like hail.
It was at this juncture that there was witnessed an act of bravery on the part of the old wood-cutter, Rochart. Singlehanded he overthrew more than ten of those sons of old Germany. Seizing them under the arms, he flung them back upon the road. Old Materne had his bayonet reeking with blood. And the little tailor Riffi kept incessantly reloading his great gun, and firing energetically upon the heaving, struggling crowd below; and Joseph Larnette, who unfortunately received a shot in the eye; Hans Baumgarten, who had his shoulder fractured; Daniel Spitz, who lost twofingers by a sword-thrust; and a crowd of others whose names will be honoured and revered from generation to generation, never ceased for one second to load and discharge their guns.
Below, nothing was heard but fearful shouts and cries; and above, nothing was to be seen but bristling bayonets, and men on horseback.
This state of things lasted a good quarter of an hour; no one knew what the Germans intended to do, since they could not clear a passage. Nearly all the students had fallen, and the others, old campaigners, used to honourable retreats, did not throw themselves into the fray with the same ardour.
They began by beating a retreat, slowly; then more quickly. The officers, behind them, struck them with the flat of their swords; shots came whizzing after them, and finally, they fled with as much precipitation as they had advanced in good order.
Materne, standing erect upon his eminence, with fifty others round him, brandished his carbine, laughing heartily.
At the foot of the ascent heaps of the wounded were dragging themselves painfully along. The trampled snow was red with blood. In the midst of the heaps of dead were to be seen two young officers, still alive, but crushed and entangled under the corpses of their horses.
It was a horrible sight! But men are really ferocious; there was not one among the mountaineers who pitied these unfortunates; on the contrary, the more of them they saw, the more rejoiced they were.
The little tailor, Riffi, at this moment, flushed with a noble enthusiasm, let himself slide down the wholelength of the steep ascent. He had just perceived, a little to the left, below the barricades, a superb horse, that of the colonel shot by Materne, and which was standing quietly in a corner, safe and sound.
illustration
"AS THEY CLIMBED UP THEY WERE BRAINED."
"You shall be mine," said he to himself; "won't Sapience be astonished, that's all!"
All the others envied him. He seized the horse by the bridle, and got upon his back. But judge of the general astonishment, and that of Riffi above all, when the noble animal set off at full gallop towards his friends the Germans.
The little tailor raised his hands to heaven, invoking all the saints.
Materne had half a mind to fire, but he was afraid, as the horse was going at such a furious pace.
They were no sooner in the midst of the enemy's bayonets than Riffi vanished out of sight.
Every one thought he had been massacred; an hour after, however, they saw him passing down the principal street of Grandfontaine with his hands tied behind his back, and corporalschlaguebehind him with his uplifted cane.
Poor Riffi! he alone was not fated to share in the day's triumph; and his comrades were even led to laugh at his unhappy fate, just as if it had happened to aKaiserlick.
Such is the nature of men; provided they are happy themselves, the misery of others concerns them but little.
FOOTNOTES:[9]Drum-major.
[9]Drum-major.
[9]Drum-major.
CHAPTER XVI.
The mountaineers were almost beside themselves with joy at their victory; they wrung each other's hands, lauded each other to the skies, and looked upon themselves as the most renowned of heroes.
Catherine, Louise, Doctor Lorquin, every one had gone out of the farm, shouting, congratulating themselves, looking at the traces of the balls, the mounds blackened by the powder; then at Joseph Larnette, with his fractured skull, lying extended in his trench; Baumgarten, with his arm hanging helpless by his side, on his way to the hospital, looking as pale as death; and Daniel Spitz, who, in spite of his sword-cut, wanted to stay and go on fighting; but the doctor would not listen to this, and forced him to return to the farm.
Louise came with the little cart and distributed brandy to the combatants; and Catherine Lefévre, on the edge of the ascent, stood looking upon the dead and wounded lying thickly scattered along the road, which was tracked with their blood. There they lay, poor fellows, young and old, all heaped indiscriminately together, with faces as white as wax, eyes staring wide open, and outstretched arms. Some few tried to rise, and instantly fell heavily back; others were looking upwards, as if they were still afraid of being shot at; while some again were dragging themselves slowly along to get under shelter from the balls.
Several seemed resigned to their fate, and only seeking a quiet place to die in, or else straining their eyes after their regiment returning to Framont; that regiment, with which they had quitted their native village, with which they had first made a long campaign, and which was now abandoning them to die!
"Our comrades will see old Germany again," thought they; "and when the captain or the sergeant is asked, 'Did you know such a one: Hans, Kasper, Nickel of the 1st or 2nd company?' they will answer, 'Stay—it's very likely—had he not a scar on the ear, or on the cheek? Fair or brown hair, five or six feet in height? Yes, I know him. He is left in France, by the side of a little village whose name I don't remember. The mountaineers massacred him on the same day as the big major Yéri Peter; he was a brave lad. And so good night.'"
Perhaps, among the number, there might have been one who thought of his mother; of a pretty girl in his own country, Gretchen or Lotchen, who had given him a riband while crying her eyes out as he was setting off—"I shall wait for your coming back, Kasper; I shall never marry any one but you!" Ah, my poor lass, you will have to wait a long while!
It was not a pleasant sight to look upon, and as Dame Lefévre beheld it, she thought of her own Gaspard.
Hullin, who had just arrived with Lagarmitte, called out, in a jovial tone:
"Well, my lads, you have smelt powder; a thousand thunders! This will do. The Germans have nothing to boast of in this day's work."
Then he embraced Louise, and ran to Dame Lefévre.
"Are you contented, Catherine? Things are goingwell with us. But what's the matter? I see no smile on your face."
"Yes, Jean-Claude, everything is going as well as can be. I am contented; but just look down on the road there! What frightful slaughter!"
"It is war," was Hullin's grave reply.
"Is there no way of bringing up here that boy who is looking at us with his large blue eyes? It wrings my heart to see him; or that tall, dark one, who is binding up his leg with his handkerchief?"
"Impossible, Catherine; it grieves me, too; but we should have to cut steps in the ice to descend to them, and then the Germans, who will be sure to be back in an hour or two, would follow us by them. Come away. We must announce the victory to all the villages round; to Labarbe, to Jerôme, to Piorette. Here, Simon, Niklo, Marchal, come here; you must set off at once to carry the great news to our comrades. Materne, you keep a sharp look-out, and at the slightest movement, let me know."
As they drew near the farm, Jean-Claude saw the reserve body, with Marc Divès on horseback in the midst of his men. The smuggler was complaining bitterly of having been left, as he called it, to fold his arms and do nothing. He looked upon himself as dishonoured, for having borne no part in the late fray.
"Bah!" said Hullin, "so much the better; and besides, you are protecting us on our right. Just look down below there. If we are attacked in that direction, you shall march to the defence."
Divès said nothing; his face wore an expression at once sad and indignant; and his tall followers, wrapped in their cloaks, with their long rapiers suspended outside, did not seem to be in a bit better humour: they looked as if they were plotting vengeance.
Hullin, not being able to console them, entered the farm. Doctor Lorquin was just beginning the operation of extracting the ball from the wound of Baumgarten, who was groaning fearfully.
Pelsly, standing on the threshold of his house, was trembling from head to foot. Jean-Claude begged him to supply him with paper and ink, in order that he might despatch his orders throughout the mountain-side; but it was with difficulty that the poor Anabaptist could comply with his request, so great was his agitation.
He managed it, however, at last, and messengers set off in all directions, quite proud of being deputed to announce the first battle and the victory.
A few mountaineers, who had come into the large room, were warming themselves by the stove, and talking in an excited manner. Daniel Spitz had already undergone the amputation of his two fingers, and was sitting behind the stove, with his hand bound up in linen.
Those who had been posted behind the barricades before daybreak, not having breakfasted, were then getting a crust and a mug of wine, shouting, gesticulating, and bragging with their mouths full. Some were going out to cast a look upon the trenches, others coming back to warm themselves, and everybody, in speaking of Riffi, and his dismal lamentations on horseback, and his plaintive cries and entreaties, laughed till their sides ached.
It was eleven o'clock. These comings and goings lasted till noon, the moment when Marc Divès suddenly entered, exclaiming, "Hullin! where is Hullin?"
"Here I am."
There was something strange in the tone of the smuggler's voice; just before furious at not having taken his part in the struggle, he seemed triumphant. Jean-Claude followed him, greatly alarmed, and the large room was cleared in an instant, for every one was convinced, by Marc's excited manner, that something serious had happened.
To the right of the Donon extends the ravine of the Minières, where rages a torrent when the snow begins to melt: it descends from the top of the mountain to the bottom of the valley.
Just opposite the plateau defended by the mountaineers, and on the other side of the ravine, at a distance of five or six hundred yards, is a sort of uncovered terrace, with a very steep descent, which Hullin had not judged necessary to occupy provisionally, not wishing to divide his forces; and seeing, besides, that it would be easy for him to strengthen this position by means of fir trees, and defend it in the event of the enemy showing signs of attacking it.
Judge, then, of the consternation of the brave man, when, on reaching the threshold of the farm, he saw two companies of Germans climbing up by this side, in the middle of the Gardens of Grandfontaine, with two field-pieces drawn on heavy carriages, and seemingly suspended over the precipice. All were pushing hard at the wheels, and in a few moments more the cannons would reach the platform. It was like a thunderbolt to Jean-Claude; he turned pale, and then went in a fearful rage with Divès. "Could you not have warned me sooner?" he roared. "Did I not bid you, above all things, to keep a good look-out on the ravine? Weare surprised; they will take us in flank; cut off the road. Everything is gone to the devil!"
The spectators, and old Materne himself, who had just run to the spot in the utmost haste, trembled at the glance he threw upon the smuggler.
The latter, in spite of his wonted boldness, stood speechless and chapfallen, not knowing what answer to make. "Come, come, Jean-Claude," said he, at length; "be calm; it is not as bad as you think. We've not had our turn yet, we fellows. And then, we're in want of cannon; it's just the very thing for us."
"Yes, just the very thing indeed, you great fool! It was your vanity that made you wait till the last moment, wasn't it? You wanted to fight, to be able to swagger and boast; and, to gain your ends, you risk the lives of us all. See! look! there are others already preparing to set out from Framont."
True enough, another column, much stronger than the first, was then leaving Framont, and advancing, at the double, towards the defences. Divès said not a word. Hullin, governing his anger, grew suddenly calm in the presence of such imminent danger.
"Go back to your posts," said he to the spectators, in a sharp voice; "let every one be ready for the attack which is preparing. Materne, attention!"
The old huntsman bowed.
Meanwhile, Marc Divès had recovered his self-possession. "Instead of brawling like a woman," said he, "you would do better to give me the order to begin the attack down below there by defending the ravine by the fir-trees."
"It must be so—a thousand thunders!" replied Jean-Claude. And then, in a calmer tone; "Listen,Marc; I'm in a furious rage with you. We were conquerors, and through your fault we've lost all our ground. If you miss your blow, we'll cut our throats together."
"Agreed. The affair is settled; I'll answer for the consequences."
Then, leaping on to his horse, and throwing the skirt of his cloak over his shoulder, he drew his long rapier with a haughty and defiant air. His men followed his example closely. Then Divès, turning towards the reserve, composed of fifty stalwart mountaineers, pointed to the platform with the point of his sword, and said: "You see that, my lads; we want that position. The men of Dagsburg must never be able to say that they showed more pluck than those of the Sarre. Forward!"
And the troops, full of martial ardour, set out on their march along the edge of the ravine. Hullin, pale with excitement, shouted, "Fix bayonets!"
The tall smuggler, on his immense brown horse, with muscular and shining croup, turned round, while a smile curled his lip under his thick moustaches; he poised his rapier with a look full of meaning, and the whole troop plunged into the thick fir forest. At the same moment, the Germans, with their eight-pounders, attained the height and began to place their battery, whilst the column from Framont was scaling the side. All was, therefore, in the same position as before the battle; with this difference, that the enemy's cannon-balls were going to be concerned in the affray, and take the mountaineers from behind.
The two field-pieces were distinctly visible, with their cramp-irons, levers, drags, artillerymen, and commanding officer, a tall, bony, broad-shouldered man, with long, light, waving moustaches. The azure vault of the valley brought far-off things so near, that you might have thought him within arm's length; but Hullin and Materne knew better; there were a good six hundred yards between them; no gun could reach as far as that.
Nevertheless, the old huntsman, before returning to the barricades, wished to have a clear conscience. So he advanced as near as possible to the ravine, followed by his son Kasper and a few mountaineers, and leaning against a tree, he slowly took aim at the tall officer with light moustaches.
All those who saw him held their breath, for fear of disturbing him, and marring his aim.
The shot winged its way through the air, and when Materne leaned the butt-end of his gun upon the ground to see what had happened, no change had taken place. "It is astonishing how age dims the sight," said he.
"You! your sight dimmed!" exclaimed Kasper; "there is not one, from the Vosges to Switzerland, who can boast of sending a ball, at two hundred yards, as well as you!"
The old forester knew it well, but he did not want to discourage the others. "Perhaps so," he replied; "we have no time to discuss that now. Here comes the enemy; let each man do his duty."
In spite of these words, Materne, to all appearance simple and calm, inwardly felt great anxiety. As he entered the trench, confused sounds reached his ear; the clashing of arms, the regular tramp of footsteps: he looked down over the side of the ascent, and beheld theGermans, this time coming with long ladders, furnished with grappling-irons.
This was a disagreeable sight for the old huntsman. He signed to his son to approach him, and whispered to him: "Kasper, this is bad, this is very bad; the beggars have brought scaling-ladders with them. Give me your hand. I would wish to have you near me, and Frantz also; but we will defend our lives as best we may. If we come off with whole skins, so much the better."
At this moment a terrible shock shook all the barricades to their foundations; a hoarse voice was heard to exclaim, "Oh! my God!"
Then a heavy sound not a hundred paces off. A fir-tree bent slowly forward, and fell right down into the abyss below.
It was the first cannon-shot: it had carried away with it both the legs of old Rochart. This shot was followed almost at the same moment by another, which came crashing along, covering in its headlong course all the mountaineers with splinters of ice; Old Materne himself bent beneath the force of this terrific explosion, but immediately recovering himself, he shouted: "Let us avenge ourselves, lads! They are here! Let us conquer or die!"
Fortunately, the panic of the mountaineers lasted but a second; they all felt that a moment's hesitation, and they were lost. Two scaling-ladders were already having their grappling-irons fixed to the side of the mountain in spite of the heavy fire poured on the assailants. This sight brought every one to the trench, and the combat was renewed more fiercely—more desperately than at the first attack.
Hullin had remarked the ladders before Materne, andhis indignation against Divès was increased by the sight; but as, in such a case, indignation is of no earthly use whatever, he had despatched Lagarmitte to desire Frantz Materne, who was posted on the other side of the Donon, to come to him with all haste with half of his men. I leave you to imagine whether the brave lad, forewarned of the danger his father was running, lost a second in obeying the order. Already the broad felt hats were seen ascending the mountain's side through the snow, the men with their carbines slung over their shoulders. They were running as fast as they could, and yet Jean-Claude, hastening to meet them, with the large drops of sweat standing on his forehead, and his eye wild and haggard, shouted to them, in a ringing voice: "Come on, there, quicker! you will never get here at that rate."
He was actually trembling with rage, attributing the whole misfortune to the smuggler.
In the meanwhile, Mark Divès, at the end of about half an hour, had made the round of the ravine, and from the back of his tall horse was just beginning to discover the two companies of Germans with grounded arms, a hundred paces behind the guns, which were firing on the entrenchments. Then, approaching the mountaineers, he said to them, in a stifled voice, while the explosions of the cannon were awakening every echo in the gorge, and in the distance the clamours of the assault resounded: "Comrades, you will charge the infantry with fixed bayonets; I and my men will undertake the rest. Is that understood?"
"Yes, that's understood."
"Well, then, forward!"
The whole body advanced in good order towards theoutskirts of the wood, with the tall Piercy of Soldatenthal at their head. Nearly at the same instant there was the "verda" (challenge) of a sentinel; then two shots; then a great shout, "Hurrah for France!" and the heavy dull sound of rushing footsteps; the brave mountaineers were falling upon the enemy like a troop of wolves!
Divès, standing upright in his stirrups, with his long nose and bristling moustaches, was laughingly looking on:
"It's all right," he kept saying to himself.
It was a fearful conflict; the ground trembled under it. The Germans were not, any more than the confederates, opening fire; all was passing in silence; the clashing of bayonets, the heavy thud of the musket-stocks, intermingled from time to time by a shot, cries of rage, groans, tumult; nothing else was heard.
The smugglers, with outstretched necks, sword in hand, sniffed the carnage, impatiently awaiting the signal from their leader.
"Now it is our turn," said Marc. "The cannon be our prize!"
And forth from the woody fastnesses, with their long cloaks floating behind them like wings, leaning eagerly forward on their saddles, and their swords poised, onward they came, rushing like the wind.
"Don't cut—stab, stab," said Marc.
And this was every word he uttered.
In a second the twelve vultures had swooped down upon the guns. There were among the number four old Spanish dragoons, and two ex-cuirassiers of the Guard, whom the taste for danger attached to Marc. Blowsfrom every imaginable weapon that the artillerymen had at hand, rained round them as thick as hail. They were all parried beforehand, and every stroke brought a man down.
Marc Divès met the fire of two pistols full in his face; one of the shots blackened his left cheek, and the other carried away his hat. He, bending over his saddle, with his long arm outstretched, pinned at the same moment the tall officer with light moustaches to one of the guns.
To conceive the effect of this terrible scene, we must picture to ourselves the deadly conflict on the heights of the Minières; the groans of the dying, the neighing of the horses, the cries of rage, the flight of some, casting away their weapons to run more quickly, the savage ardour of others.
Marc Divès was not of a contemplative turn: he did not waste time in making poetical reflections on the tumult and senseless fury of the wars men wage with each other. He saw the situation at a glance, and leaping from his horse, flung himself upon the first cannon, still loaded, seized the levers of the gun-carriage to change its direction, levelled it at the foot of the ladders, and, snatching a match which was smoking on the ground, fired.
Then at a distance arose strange clamours, and the smuggler, through the smoke, saw a bloody gap in the enemy's ranks.
"Now on, boys," said he to his men, "we must not sleep upon it. A cartridge here; a ball, some turf: we'll sweep the road. Look out!"
The smugglers took up their position; and the firewas kept up upon the white uniforms with untiring zeal. Volleys of bullets whizzed through their ranks. At the tenth discharge there was a general rout.
About six hundred men perished on that day. There were mountaineers, and there wereKaiserlicksin far greater numbers; but had it not been for the cannonade of Divès all would have been lost.
illustration
CHAPTER XVII.
The Germans, driven back in multitudes upon Grandfontaine, fled in bands in the direction of Framont, on foot and on horseback, hurrying along, dragging with them their baggage, throwing their knapsacks across the road, and then looking behind them as if they feared to see the mountaineers at their heels.
In Grandfontaine they destroyed everything they could lay their hands on, out of a spirit of revenge; they smashed the windows and doors, insulted the inhabitants, demanded to be supplied with food and drink on the spot, and outraged the women. Their shouts, their imprecations, the authoritative commands of their leaders, the complaints of the citizens, the heavy, incessant tread of footsteps on the bridge of Framont, the shrill neighings of the wounded horses, all reached the barricades in one confused, mingled sound.
On the mountain-side nothing was to be seen but arms, shakos, and dead bodies; in short, all the signs of a great defeat. Opposite appeared the cannons taken by Marc Divès, pointed over the valley, and ready to fire in case of a fresh attack.
All was then over—quite over. And yet not a single cry of triumph rose from the entrenchments. The losses the mountaineers had sustained in this last assault had been too severe and cruel. There was something solemnin this deep silence succeeding to the tumult; and all those men who had escaped the carnage looked at one another with grave faces as if they were surprised at seeing each other. Some called to a friend, others to a brother, who did not answer. They would then begin to search in the trench, along the barricades, or on the ascent, crying as they did it, "Ho! Jacob, Philip!—is it you?"
And then night came, and its grey shadows spread over entrenchments and abyss, adding the horror of mystery to scenes already terrible enough.
Materne, after having wiped his bayonet, called his sons to him in hoarse accents:
"Ho! Kasper! Frantz!"
And seeing forms approaching in the darkness, he began to ask:
"Is it you?"
"Yes, it is us."
"Nothing wrong with you?"
"No."
The old huntsman's voice, usually so rough, trembled like a woman's.
"Here we are all three, then, together again!" said he, in a low tone.
And he, whom no one had ever accused of being softhearted, bestowed a hearty embrace upon his sons, who were greatly surprised by his emotion. They heard a sound in his breast as of inward sobbing; they were much moved by it, and said to themselves: "How he loves us! We should never have believed this!"
They themselves felt touched to the very quick.
But in a short time, the old man, recovering himself, exclaimed:
"All the same, this has been a tough day's work, boys. Let us go and have a cup of wine, for I'm thirsty."
Then casting a last look on the gloomy scene, and seeing the sentinels which Hullin, as he went by, had just posted at every thirty paces, they proceeded together towards the old farm.
They were crossing the trench, where the dead lay in heaps, lifting their feet whenever they felt them come in contact with anything soft, when they heard a stifled voice say:
"Is that you, Materne?"
"Ah, my poor old Rochart!—pardon, pardon!" replied the old huntsman, stooping down. "I touched you. What! are you there still?"
"Yes, I cannot move, for I have lost my legs."
They were all three silent for a moment, and then the old wood-cutter resumed:
"Tell my wife that she will find behind the wardrobe my little savings, put away in a stocking. I hoarded it up in case we should either of us fall ill. For me, I have no more need of it."
"That we shall see, we shall see;—you may recover yet—poor old fellow! We will carry you away."
"No; it's not worth the trouble; I've only an hour longer to live; it would only put me to pain."
Materne, without answering, made a sign to Kasper to form a litter with his carbine and his own, and Frantz to place the old wood-cutter upon it, in spite of his remonstrances. Which was immediately done. And in this manner they all arrived at the farm together.
All the wounded who, during the combat, had hadstrength to drag themselves to the hospital, had repaired thither. Doctor Lorquin and his assistant, Despois, who had arrived during the day, were up to their ears in work, and still all was not nearly finished, so much was there to do.
As Materne, with his sons and old Rochart, were crossing the dark alley by the light of the lantern, they heard on their left a groan which froze the very marrow in their hones, and the old wood-cutter, half-dead as he was, exclaimed:
"Oh! why do you bring me here? I will not—no, I won't! I would rather die at once!"
"Open the door, Frantz," said Materne, while a cold sweat stood upon his face—"open, make haste!"