The Great Invasion of 1813-14; or, After Leipzig / Being a story of the entry of the allied forces into Alsace and Lorraine, and their march upon Paris after the Battle of Leipzig, called the Battle of the Kings and Nations

by Erckmann-Chatrian

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Sawyer.

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CHAPTER IX.

All those whom Jean-Claude Hullin had named assembled under the shed of the sawpit around the immense hearth. A sort of pleased good-humour beamed in the faces of these brave men.

"For twenty years have I heard talk of the Russians, the Austrians, and the Cossacks," said old Materne, with a smile; "and now I shall not be sorry to see a few of them within range of my gun; that will be quite another thing."

"Yes," replied Labarbe; "we shall see some strange things; the little children of the mountain will be able to relate stories of their fathers and grandfathers, and the old women, won't they tell legends round the fire in fifty years to come?"

"Comrades," said Hullin, "you know all the country round; you have the mountain under your eyes from Thann to Wissembourg. You know that two highways, two imperial roads, cross Alsace and the Vosges. They both come from Bâle; one follows the course of the Rhine as far as Strasbourg, from whence it proceeds along the borders of the Saverne till it reaches Lorraine. It is protected by Huningen, Neuf-Brisach, Strasbourg, and Phalsbourg. The other turns to the left, and goes as far as Schlestadt; from Schlestadt it enters the mountain, and reaches Saint-Dié, Raon-l'Etape, Bacarat, and Lunéville. At first the enemy wanted to force these two roads, as being better for the cavalry, artillery, and baggage; but as they are defended, we have nothing to fear on that head. If the Allies besiege the strong places—which will lengthen out the campaign—then we shall have nothing to fear; but that is not very probable. After having summoned Huningen to surrender, Belfort, Schlestadt, Strasbourg, and Phalsbourg, on this side of the Vosges; Bitche, Lutzelstein, and Sarrebrück on the other, I think they will fall upon us. Now, listen to me well. Between Phalsbourg and Saint-Dié there are several defiles for the infantry; but there is only one road available for cannon; that is the road from Strasbourg to Raon-les-Leaux by Urmatt, Mutzig, Lutzelhouse, Phramond, Grandfontaine. Once masters of this passage, the Allies could come down upon Lorraine. This road leads to the Donon, two leagues from here on our right. The first thing to do is to establish ourselves firmly there in the spot most favourable to the defence—that is to say, on the sides of the mountain; to intersect it, to break down the bridges, and to throw strong barricades across it. A few hundred strong trees laid across a road with all their branches are as good as ramparts. They serve, too, for the best ambuscades, as you are well sheltered, and can see all that is going on. Those big trees are the very devil! you have to cut them down bit to bit; you cannot throw bridges over them; in fact, there's nothing better. All this, comrades, will be done by to-morrow evening, or the day after at latest. I will undertake that; but it is not enough to occupy a position, and put it in a good state of defence; we must still further manage that the enemy cannot turn it."

"Just what I was thinking," said Materne. "Once in the valley of the Bruche, the Germans can enter with the infantry among the hills of Haslach, and turn our left. Nothing can prevent their trying the same manœuvre on our right, if they succeed in reaching Raon-l'Etape."

"Yes; but to prevent that, we have one very simple thing to do; that is, to occupy the defiles of the Zorn and the Sarre on our left, and that of the Blanru on our right. The best way to guard a defile is by holding the heights; Piorette will, therefore, station himself with a hundred men on the side of Raon-les-Leaux; Jerôme, on the Grosmann, with a like number, to defend the valley of the Sarre; and Labarbe, at the head of the rest, to overlook the hills of the Haslach. You will choose your men from among those of the nearest villages. The women must not have far to go to bring provisions, and then the wounded will be nearer home, which must be thought of, too. This is, for the present, all I have to say to you. The leaders will be careful to send to me every day to the Donon, where I am going to establish this very evening our head-quarters, a good walker, to inform me of all that is going on, and receive the password. We will organize also a reserve; but, as we must make the greatest haste, we will talk of that when you have all taken up your positions, and when there is no longer any fear of surprise on the part of the enemy."

"And I," exclaimed Marc Divès; "I shall have nothing to do, then? I am to remain with my arms folded looking at the others fighting?"

"For you, your duty will be to overlook the transport of the ammunition; none of us understand like you managing powder, preserving it from fire and damp, casting bullets, and making cartridges."

"But all that is woman's work," exclaimed the smuggler; "Hexe-Baizel would do it as well as me. What! am I not to fire a single shot?"

"Be easy, Marc," replied Hullin, with a laugh; "you will not want for opportunities. In the first place, the Falkenstein is the centre of our line—it is our arsenal, and our point of retreat in case of misfortune. The enemy will know, through his spies, that our convoys set out from thence; he will probably attempt to intercept them. You will have enough of bullets, and bayonets, too. Besides, even if you are under shelter, so much the better, for it would not do to confide your caves to the first comer. Still, if you really wish——"

"No," said the smuggler, who had been struck by Hullin's remark about his caves; "no; all things well considered, I believe you are right, Jean-Claude. I have my men; they are well armed. We will defend the Falkenstein, and if an opportunity of firing a shot offers I shall be more free."

"Then this matter is arranged, and we all understand?" asked Hullin.

"Yes, yes; we understand."

"Well, comrades," exclaimed the brave man, in a joyful accent, "let us warm our hearts with a few good glasses of wine. It is ten o'clock, so let everyone return to his village, and make his preparations. To-morrow morning, at the latest, all the defiles of the mountain must be strongly occupied."

They then came out of the shed, and Hullin, in presence of all, named as leaders Labarbe, Jerôme, and Piorette; he then told all those of the Sarre to assemble as soon as possible near the farm of Bois-de-Chênes with hatchets, pickaxes, and guns. "We will set out at two o'clock," said he, "and we will encamp on the Donon along the road. To-morrow, at daybreak, we will begin our entrenchments."

He detained old Materne and his sons Frantz and Kasper, to announce to them that the battle would doubtless commence at the Donon, and that they should, therefore, need some good marksmen in that part, at which they were greatly pleased.

Dame Lefévre had never appeared happier. As she got up again into her cart, she embraced Louise, and whispered in her ear: "All is going well. Jean-Claude is a man; he sees everything; he carries everyone along with him. Even me, who have known him for forty years, he astonishes me."

Then turning to him: "Jean-Claude," said she, "we have a ham waiting for us at home, and a few bottles of old wine, that we'll not leave for the Germans to drink."

"No, Catherine; they shall not drink them. Come on."

But just as she was flourishing her whip, and as a goodly number of mountaineers were ascending the steep sides of the mountain on their way back to their respective villages, there was seen approaching, in the extreme distance, a tall, thin man sitting in his goat-skin saddle, a hare-skin cap on his head, which he held erect. An enormous long-haired sheep-dog came bounding along by his side, and the flaps of his immense riding-coat flew behind him like wings. Everyone exclaimed: "It is Doctor Lorquin of the plain; he who attends the poor gratis. Here he comes, with his dog Pluto; ah! he is a worthy man!"

It was indeed he; he came galloping along, shouting at the top of his voice, "Halt! stop! halt!" and with his face as red as fire, his big eyes sparkling with excitement, his long beard of a reddish brown, his broad stooping shoulders, and his great bounding sheep-dog, he came along at a swinging pace. In two more minutes he had reached the foot of the mountain, crossed the meadow, and brought up in front of the shed. Immediately after a voice, panting for breath, was heard to say, "Ah! how deaf you all are! and the idea of going on a campaign without me! You shall pay for it!" touching a little chest, which he was carrying behind him, "Stay a minute, my lads," said he; "I've something in there that you can't very well do without. I have in there little knives and large ones, round and sharp ones, for digging out the bullets, and shot of all sorts, that you will be peppered with." And then he burst into a loud peal of laughter, and all the spectators felt their flesh creep.

Having given utterance to this agreeable pleasantry, Doctor Lorquin resumed, in a graver tone, "Hullin, I must pull your ears for you. What! forget me, when the point in question was the defence of our country! Suffer me to be informed of it by others! And yet it seems to me that a doctor will be in requisition here, I must blame you."

"Forgive me, doctor; I have been in the wrong," said Hullin, warmly pressing his hand. "During the last week so many things have happened. You cannot always think of everybody; and, besides, a man like you does not require to be warned of his duty to fulfil it."

The doctor's brow relaxed. "All this is very well, and very good," he exclaimed; "but that does not alter the fact that, by your neglect, I might have arrived too late. All the good places are taken, the crosses distributed. Come, lead me to the general, that I may prefer my complaint to him."

"I am the general, and I appoint you surgeon-in-chief to the forces."

"Surgeon-in-chief to the forces of the Vosges! Well, that will suit me. No malice, Jean-Claude." Then, approaching the cart, the worthy man told Catherine that he should depend upon her for the organization of the ambulances.

"Make your mind easy, doctor," replied the farm-mistress; "all shall be ready. Louise and I will make that our special care from this very evening; will we not, Louise?"

"Oh, yes! Mother Lefévre," murmured the young girl, enchanted to see that they had actually commenced the campaign; "we will work hard, day and night, if needs be. M. Lorquin may make his mind quite easy."

"Well, then, forward! You dine with us, doctor."

The little cart set out at full trot; all along the road, the good doctor laughingly recounted to Catherine how the news of the general rising had reached him; the despair of his old housekeeper, Marie, who strove hard to prevent his going to be massacred by the kaiserlicks; in short, the different episodes of his journey from Quibolo to the village of Charmes. Hullin, Materne, and his boys walked a few steps behind, with gun on shoulder, and in this way they ascended the mountain, and directed their steps towards the farm of Bois-de-Chênes.

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CHAPTER X.

You may imagine the state of excitement at the farm, the comings and goings of the servants, enthusiastic shouts of all, the clinkings of glasses, and clatterings of knives and forks, the joy painted on every face, when Jean-Claude, Doctor Lorquin, the Maternes, and all those who had followed Catherine's vehicle, were installed in the large house-room at the farm, around a magnificent ham, and had set steadily to work to celebrate their future triumphs cup in hand.

It chanced to be on a Tuesday, always a grand cooking day at the farm.

The great kitchen fire had been blazing since morning; old Duchêne, in his shirt-sleeves, was drawing from the oven innumerable manchets of bread, the good smell of which pervaded the whole house. Annette took them from his hands, and piled them up in a corner of the hearth. Louise waited on the guests, and Catherine Lefévre superintended everything, calling out as she did so:

"Make haste, children, make haste, the third batch must be ready by the time the men from the Sarre arrive. That will make six pounds of bread a man."

Hullin, from his place, watched the old farm-mistress as she came and went.

"What a woman!" he exclaimed, "what a woman! Go and find me such another the whole country round! She forgets nothing! The health of Catherine Lefévre!"

"The health of Catherine Lefévre!" was loudly responded by all the rest.

There was a renewed clinking of glasses, and then the talk fell again on marches, attacks, and entrenchments. Every one felt inspired by an invincible confidence; every one said to himself, "All will prosper."

But Heaven was reserving for them on that day a still greater pleasure and surprise, and especially for Louise and Dame Lefévre. Towards noon, just as a bright ray of the winter's sun was making the snow look whiter than ever and melting the hoar-frost on the window-panes, and the great red cock thrusting his head out of the fowl-house was flapping his wings and making the echoes of the Valtin resound with his shrill cry of triumph, all of a sudden the watch-dog, old Yohan, who was quite toothless, and very nearly blind, began to give vent to a succession of barks at once so joyous and so plaintive, that everyone's attention was attracted.

The great kitchen fire was blazing at its height; the third batch was being drawn from the oven, and yet Catherine Lefévre herself stopped to listen.

"There is something going to happen," said she, in a low tone.

Then she added, in a voice that shook with emotion:

"Since my boy left home, Yohan has never barked like that."

At the same moment rapid steps were heard crossing the court-yard; Louise sprang towards the door, exclaiming, "It is he! it is he!" and almost immediately a trembling hand was at the latch; the door opened, and a soldier appeared at the threshold, but a soldier, so lank, sunburnt, and haggard, his old grey overcoat with pewter buttons so worn out, his long cloth gaiters so torn and discoloured, that all the spectators were speechless with surprise.

He seemed unable to take a step farther, as he firmly put the butt-end of his gun to the ground. The tip of his eagle nose—the exact counterpart of Dame Lefévre's—shone like bronze, his red moustaches quivered; he looked just like one of those lean, hungry hawks driven by famine in winter to the stable doors. He looked straight into the kitchen, and his cheeks seemed to turn pale beneath their tinge of sun-brown, and his hollow eyes filled with tears as he stood there without being able to speak a word or advance a step.

Out of doors the old dog kept leaping, and whining, and rattling his chain as if he would break it; within, not a sound could be heard but the crackling of the fire, so deep was the silence; but very soon the voice of Catherine Lefévre was heard exclaiming, in heartrending tones:—

"Gaspard!—my child! It is you!"

"Yes, mother!" replied the soldier, in a voice choking with emotion.

And in a second Louise had begun to sob, whilst all in the vast room rose at once with a noise like thunder.

All ran towards him, with Master Jean-Claude at their head, shouting:

"Gaspard!—Gaspard Lefévre!"

But Gaspard and his mother were clasped in each other's arms: this woman, usually so strong-minded, so courageous, was weeping unrestrainedly; her son shed no tears, but held her close to his heart, his red moustaches buried in her gray locks, as he murmured:

"Mother! mother! ah! how often have I thought of you!"

Then, in a louder voice:

"Louise!" said he, "I saw Louise!"

And Louise rushed into his arms, and they mingled their tears and kisses together.

"Ah! you did not know me again, Louise!"

"Oh! yes—oh! yes, I knew you directly by your step."

Old Duchêne, with his cotton night-cap in his hand, stood by the fire stammering:

"Gracious Lord—is it possible? my poor child—how changed he is!"

He had brought Gaspard up, and always pictured him since his departure fresh and ruddy-cheeked, in a handsome uniform with red facings. It deranged all his ideas to see him otherwise.

At this moment Hullin, raising his voice, said:

"And we, Gaspard, all of us, your old friends, have you nothing to say to us?"

Then the brave fellow turned round, and uttered a shout of recognition:

"Hullin! Doctor Lorquin! Materne! Frantz! all! they are all here!"

And the embracings began again, but this time more joyously, mingled with shouts of laughter and hearty hand-shakings, that seemed as if they would never come to an end.

"Ah! Doctor, is that you? Ah! my old Papa Jean-Claude!"

They looked at him again and again, staring him full in the face with countenances beaming with joy, as if to assure themselves that it was really he; then, linking their arms in his, they carried rather than led him into the kitchen, and Dame Catherine followed with his knapsack, Louise with the gun, Duchêne with the tall shako, all laughing and crying by turns, and drying their eyes and cheeks. You never saw anything like it.

"Come, let us sit down—let us drink!" exclaimed Doctor Lorquin; "this is the bouquet of the feast."

"Ah! my poor Gaspard, how glad I am to see you come back again safe and sound," said Hullin. "He! he! without wishing to flatter you, I like you better as you are than with your fat red cheeks. You are a man now, i'faith! You remind me of the old soldiers of my own time, the men of Sambre, of Egypt, ha! ha! ha! we had no fat cheeks among us! we were not sleek and shining! We looked more like hungry rats who have just caught sight of a piece of cheese, and our teeth were long and white, I warrant you."

"Yes, yes; that does not surprise me, Papa Jean-Claude," replied Gaspard. "Sit down, sit down; we shall talk more at our ease. But what is this?—what brings you all to the farm?"

"What! you do not know? All the country is up in arms, from the Houpe to St. Sauveur, to defend ourselves."

"Yes, the Anabaptist of Painbach told me something of this as I was passing; it is true, then?"

"Is it true? Why, everyone is engaged in it, and I am general-in-chief."

"All right, all right; a thousand thunders! Let those dogs of kaiserlicks have their own way in our country! that wouldn't suit me at all. But just pass me the knife. Whatever happens, it's always jolly to find oneself at home again. I say, Louise, just come and sit beside me a little. Look, Papa Jean-Claude, with my little girl on one side of me, that capital ham on the other, and a jug of good wine forming the line in front, it would not take me a fortnight to get into condition again, and my comrades would not know me again when I joined my company."

Everybody had sat down again, and was fully employed in watching with wondering looks the brave soldier, cutting, carving, quaffing, then casting tender glances at Louise and his mother, and replying to one and another without at the same time losing a single mouthful.

The farm people, Duchêne, Annette, Robin, and Dubourg, ranged behind in a half-circle, stood gazing upon Gaspard in a sort of ecstasy; Louise kept filling up his glass, while Dame Lefévre, sitting near the oven, looked over the contents of his knapsack, and finding there nothing but two old shirts quite black with dirt, and with holes large enough to put your hand in, a pair of shoes down at heel, an empty tobacco-pouch, a comb with three teeth, and an empty bottle, she lifted up her hands, murmuring to herself: "Good Lord! need we be surprised that so many die of starvation!"

Doctor Lorquin, at the sight of such a vigorous appetite, gleefully rubbed his hands, as he muttered from under his thick beard: "What a fellow it is! What a digestion! What a set of teeth! Why, he could crack pebbles like nuts!"

And even old Materne said to his boys: "In my time, after a two or three days' hunt on the mountain tops in winter, I have known what it was, too, to have the appetite of a wolf, and to eat the haunch of a roe-buck at a sitting; now I am grown old, a pound or two of meat is enough for me. Age makes all the difference!"

Hullin had lit his pipe, and seemed absent and thoughtful; it was plain that he was uneasy about something. After a few moments, seeing Gaspard's appetite begin to relax, he abruptly exclaimed: "But tell us, Gaspard, if I may make so bold as to ask, how does it happen that you are here? We thought you were still on the Strasbourg side of the Rhine!"

"Ah! ha! old boy, I understand," said young Lefévre, with a knowing wink; "there are so many deserters; is it not so?"

"Oh! such an idea as that would never enter my head! and yet——"

"You would not be sorry to know if we are all right and correct! I don't blame you, Papa Jean-Claude; you are quite right; those who don't answer to the muster-roll when the kaiserlicks are in France, richly deserve to be shot! Make your mind happy; there's my leave."

Hullin, who had no false delicacy, read: "Twenty-four hours' leave of absence to Grenadier Gaspard Lefévre, of the 2nd company of the 1st regiment.—January the 3rd, 1814. Gemeau, chief of the battalion." "Good, good," said he; "put it up in your knapsack; you might chance to lose it."

All his good-humour had returned.

"Look you, my children," said he, "I know what love is; there is bad and good about it; but it is bad in particular for young soldiers who come too near their homes after a campaign. They are capable of forgetting all and everything till they find themselves brought back with two or three gendarmes at their heels. I've seen that happen before now. But, however, since everything is clear and straightforward here, let's drain a bumper of rikevir. What say you, Catherine? The men of the Sarre may arrive from one moment to the next, and we have not an instant to lose."

"You say well, Jean-Claude," replied the old farm-mistress, sadly. "Go down and bring up three bottles from the little cellar, Annette."

The servant-girl ran quickly out at her mistress's orders.

"But this leave, Gaspard," continued Catherine, "how much longer has it to run?"

"I received it yesterday, at eight in the evening, at Vasselonne, mother. The regiment is in retreat upon Lorraine; I must rejoin it this evening at Phalsbourg."

"Well and good; you have still seven hours before you. It will not take you more than six to get there, though there is a good deal of snow at Foxthâl."

The good woman came and sat down by her son. Her heart was full almost to bursting; she could not conceal her grief. Everyone was deeply touched. Louise, with her arm on Gaspard's worn-out epaulet, and her cheek pressed against his, was sobbing as if her heart would break. Hullin knocked the ashes out of his pipe on the corner of the table; he sat silently, with knitted brows and compressed lips; but as soon as the bottles made their appearance and were uncorked, "Come, Louise!" he exclaimed, "courage! what the deuce! All this will be only for a short time; it must come to an end some way or another, and I say that it will end well. Gaspard will come back, and we shall have a happy wedding."

He filled up the glasses as he spoke, and Catherine wiped her eyes as she murmured: "And to think that all these robbers are the cause of this happening to us! Ah, let them come! let them only come here!"

They drank, though in a melancholy sort of way, but the good old rikevir, as it found its way to the hearts of these worthy people, soon cheered their drooping spirits. Gaspard, stronger than he had appeared at first, began to relate the terrible affairs of Bautzen, Lutzen, Leipzig, and Hanau, where the conscripts had fought like veterans, gaining victory upon victory until traitors found their way among them. Everyone listened with silent interest; Louise, when the recital touched upon moments of great danger—crossing rivers under the enemy's fire, carrying a battery at the point of the bayonet—pressing his arm as if to defend him. Jean-Claude's eyes sparkled. The doctor always wanted to know the exact position of the ambulances; Materne and his sons stretched out their necks, and showed by the rigid compression of their massive red-bearded jaws how eagerly they were drinking in every word that fell from his lips, and with the aid of the generous wine, the general enthusiasm increased each moment, and every now and then vented itself in muttered expressions. "Oh! the dogs! the villains! let them beware! All is not over yet!"

Dame Lefévre admired the courage and good fortune of her son in the midst of these events, the memory of which will be preserved from generation to generation. But when Lagarmitte, grave and solemn, in his long gray gaberdine, his large black felt hat upon his head, his wooden horn on his shoulder, crossed the kitchen, and, standing in the doorway, announced, "The men from the Sarre are coming!" then all this excitement disappeared, and everyone rose, thinking only of the terrible struggle which was shortly going to begin on the mountain.

Louise threw her arms round Gaspard's neck, exclaiming: "Gaspard, do not leave us! Stay with us!"

He turned very pale. "I am a soldier," said he; "my name is Gaspard Lefévre; I love thee, Louise, a thousand times better than my own life, but a Lefévre knows nothing but his duty!" And he unclasped her arms from about his neck. Then Louise sank, half-fainting, down, and, with her head lying on the table, began to groan aloud. Gaspard rose.

Hullin placed himself between them, and pressing his hands warmly, while his own strong frame shook with emotion, "Right, my lad!" said he; "spoken like a man, and a brave one, too."

His mother approached more calmly to buckle his knapsack on to his shoulders. She performed that task with knit brows, her lips firmly compressed under her long hooked nose, without uttering a sigh; but two big tears slowly coursed each other down the furrows in her cheeks. And when she had finished, turning round with her sleeve to her eyes, she said, "There; go, go, my child, thy mother blesses thee. If war seizes thee for its prey, still thou wilt not be dead to us. See, Gaspard, there is thy place; there, between Louise and me; thou wilt ever be there! This poor child is not yet old enough to know that to live is but to suffer."

Everyone went out. Louise, left alone, began to weep and groan afresh. A few moments after, as she heard the butt end of his gun resounding on the flagstones and the outer door opening, she rushed out after him, shrieking in heartrending tones, "Gaspard! Gaspard! see, I will be firm; I will not cry any more; I do not want to keep you back—oh, no, but do not leave me in anger; have pity on me!"

"Anger! angry with you, my darling! Oh, no, no," he replied. "But to see you so miserable breaks my heart. Ah! if you had but a little firmness now, I should be happy."

"Well, then, I have; kiss me. See, I am no longer the same. I will try to be like our good mother Lefévre."

They exchanged their parting embrace with more calmness. Hullin stood by, holding the gun; Catherine waved her hand, as much as to say, "Go, go—enough."

And he, suddenly seizing his weapon, departed, with a firm step, and without once turning his head.

On the other side, the men of the Sarre, with their pickaxes and hatchets, were climbing in procession the steep and rugged ascent of the Valtin.

At the end of five minutes, at the turning by the great oak, Gaspard looked round, and waved his hand. Catherine and Louise answered him. Hullin then came forward to meet his men. Doctor Lorquin alone remained with the women; when Gaspard, continuing his way, was quite out of sight, he exclaimed:—"Catherine Lefévre, you may be proud of having so brave a man for your son. Heaven speed and prosper him!"

They heard the distant voices of the new-comers, who were laughing gaily among themselves, and marching to war as to a marriage festival.

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CHAPTER XI.

Whilst Hullin, at the Head of the mountaineers, was taking his measures for the defence of his country, the fool Yégof—that being deprived of the blessing of self-consciousness, that unhappy creature with his tin crown, that sad spectacle of humanity shorn of its noblest, greatest, most vital attribute, intelligence—the fool Yégof, his breast exposed to the cutting wind, his feet bare, insensible to cold, like the reptile in his icy prison, was wandering from mountain to mountain, in the midst of the snows of winter.

Whence comes it that the madman is able to resist the sharpest severity of the atmosphere, while an intelligent being would succumb to it? Does it arise from a more powerful concentration of life, a more rapid circulation of the blood, a state of perpetual fever? Or is it the effect of the over-excitement of the senses, or any other unknown cause?

Science says nothing. She admits only material causes, powerless to give an account of such phenomena.

So Yégof went on at random, and night came. The cold was redoubled, the fox gnashed his teeth in the pursuit of an invisible prey; the famished buzzard fell back with empty claws among the bushes, uttering a cry of distress. He, with his raven on his shoulder, gesticulating, jabbering, as if in a dream, kept marching, marching on, from Holderloch to Sonneberg, from Sonneberg to Blutfeld.

Now, on this particular night, the old shepherd, Robin, of the farm of Bois-de-Chêne, was destined to be the witness of a most strange and fearful sight.

Some days before, having been overtaken by the first fall of snow at the bottom of the gorge of the Blutfeld, he had left his cart there to conduct his flock back to the farm; but having discovered that he had forgotten his sheepskin, and left it in a shed there, he had on this day, when his work was done, set out about four o'clock in the afternoon to go and fetch it.

The Blutfeld, situated between the Schneeberg and the Grosmann, is a narrow gorge, bounded by perpendicular rocks. A narrow stream of water winds through it, summer and winter, under shadow of the tall shrubs, and in its depths extends a vast pasturage, all covered with large gray stones, that lie thickly scattered about.

This defile is very little frequented by the dwellers in the mountains, for there is a wild and weird look about the Blutfeld, especially by the pale light of a winter's moon. The learned folks of these regions, the schoolmasters of Dagsburg, and of Hazlach, say that in that spot occurred the famous battle of the Triboques against the Germans, who wished to penetrate into Gaul, under the command of a leader named Luitprandt. They say that the Triboques, from the surrounding mountain-tops, hurling upon their enemies huge masses of rocks, crushed them there as in a mortar, and that, on account of this great carnage, the gorge has preserved to this day the name of Blutfeld (field of blood). Fragments of broken pots, of rusty lances, bits of helmets, and long swords with cross hilts, are often found there.

At night time, when the moon sheds her soft light upon this field and those immense stones, all covered with snow, when the north wind blows and whistles among the frost-covered branches, making them rustle and clatter like cymbals, you might fancy you heard the wild cry of the Germans at the moment of surprise, the shrieks and groans of the women, the neighings of the horses, the hoarse rumbling of the chariots in the defile; for it appears that these people brought with them, in their skin-covered carriages, women, children, old men, and all that they possessed in gold, and silver, and moveables, like the Germans setting out for America. The Triboques never ceased to massacre them during two days, and on the third they went back to the Donon, the Schneeberg, the Grosmann, the Giromani, the Hengst, their broad shoulders stooping under the weight of their booty.

This is what is related concerning the Blutfeld, and certainly to see this gorge enclosed within the mountains like an immense trap, without any other outlet than a narrow footpath, it is easy to understand how the Germans might have been surprised there, and fallen an easy prey to their victors.

Robin did not reach the spot till between seven and eight o'clock, just as the moon was rising.

The honest fellow had descended the precipice a hundred times, but never had he beheld the place so brightly illuminated and at the same time of so gloomy and sinister an aspect.

At a distance, his white cart, standing at the bottom of the abyss, looked to him exactly like one of those enormous stones, covered with snow, beneath which the Germans had been interred. It was at the entrance of the gorge, behind a thick cluster of shrubs, and beside it the little torrent ran murmuring in a slender stream, bright as steel, and sparkling like diamonds.

When he arrived at the place, the shepherd began to look for the key of the padlock; then, having unlocked the shed, he crept in on his hands and knees, and found, very fortunately, not only his sheepskin, but even an old hatchet which he had quite forgotten.

But judge of his surprise when, on issuing from it, he saw the fool Yégof appear at the turn of the footpath, and come straight towards him in the bright moonlight.

The honest man immediately remembered the terrible story told in the kitchen of Bois-de-Chênes, and he felt afraid; but quite another feeling came over him when behind the fool, at fifteen or twenty paces, he beheld, stealthily approaching in their turn, five grey wolves, two big and three smaller ones.

At first he took them for dogs, but they were wolves. They followed Yégof step by step, and he did not appear to see them; his raven hovered overhead, flitting from the full moonlight to the shadow of the rocks, and then returning; the wolves, with flaming eyes, their sharp muzzles turned up, were sniffing the air; the fool raised his sceptre.

The shepherd pulled to the door of the shed as quick as lightning, but Yégof did not see him. He advanced into the gorge as into a spacious audience-chamber; to the right and left rose the steep rocks, far above which myriads of stars were shining. You might have heard a fly move; the wolves trod the ground noiselessly; not a sound was there, and the raven had just perched on the top of an old withered oak that grew upon one of the rocks opposite; his shining plumage looked still darker than usual, as he turned his head, and seemed to be listening.

It was a strange sight.

Robin said to himself:—"The fool sees nothing, hears nothing; they will devour him. If he stumbles, if his foot slips, it is all over with him."

But in the middle of the gorge, Yégof, having turned round, sat down upon a stone, and the five wolves, all round him, still sniffing the air, squatted on their haunches in the snow.

And then, a really terrible sight, the fool raising his sceptre, addressed a speech to them, calling them each by their names.

The wolves answered him with dismal howls.

Now this is what he said to them:—"Hé! Child, Bléed, Merweg, and thou, Sirimar, my ancient, we are met together, then, once again! You have come back fat. There has been good cheer in Germany, eh?"

Then, pointing to the snow-covered gorge:—"You remember the great battle?"

First one of the wolves began to howl slowly in a dismal voice, then another, then all the five together.

This lasted a good ten minutes.

The raven, perched on the withered branch, did not stir.

Robin would gladly have fled. He put up his prayers, invoked all the saints, and, in particular, his own patron, for whom all the shepherds of the mountain have the highest veneration.

But the wolves still continued to utter their dismal howlings, awakening all the echoes of the Blutfeld.

At last one, the oldest of the number, was silent, then another, then all, and Yégof continued:—"Yes, yes; that is a dismal story. See! behold! there is the river down which our blood flowed in streams! No matter, Merweg, no matter; the others have left their bones to whiten on the common, and the cold moon has seen their women tearing their hair for three days and three nights! Oh! that terrible day! Oh! the dogs! were they proud of their great victory! Let them be accursed—accursed!"

The fool had cast his crown to the ground. He now picked it up, groaning as he did so.

The wolves, still seated round, listened to him like attentive spectators. The biggest among them began to howl, and Yégof answered his complaint.

"You are hungry, Sirimar; take comfort, take comfort; you will not want for food much longer; the men of our side are coming, and the strife will begin afresh."

Then rising, and striking his sceptre on a stone.

"See," said he, "behold thy bones!"

He approached another.

"And thine, Merweg, behold them!" said he.

All the troop followed him, while he, raising himself upon a low rock, and glancing round upon the still and silent gorge, exclaimed:—"Our war song is silent! our war song is now a groan! The hour is near; it will re-awaken, and you will be among the warriors, you will possess once more these valleys and these mountains. Oh! that sound of wheels, those cries of women, those blows from crushing rocks and stones; I hear them; the air is full of them. Yes, yes; they fell on us from above, and we were surrounded. And now all is dead; hark! all is dead; your bones sleep, but your children are on their way, and your turn will come. Sing, sing!"

And this time he himself began to howl, whilst the wolves broke out afresh in their savage war-cry.

These dismal howls grew more and more loud and appalling, and the silence of the rocks around, some plunged in thick darkness, while others were fully revealed in the moon's bright rays, the solemn stillness of every tree and shrub beneath its weight of snow, the distant echoes replying with a mysterious voice to the mournful concert, all were calculated to strike terror into the breast of the old shepherd.

But by degrees his fears grew less, for Yégof and his dismal followers were getting farther and farther away from him, and gradually retreating towards Hazlach.

The raven, in his turn, unfurled his wings, and took his flight through the pale vault of heaven.

The whole scene vanished like a dream!

Robin heard for a long time after the howlings of the retreating wolves. They had completely ceased for more than twenty minutes, and not a sound broke the deep silence of the winter night, when the worthy man felt himself sufficiently recovered from his fright to come out of his hiding-place, and take his way back at full speed to the farm.

On arriving at Bois-de-Chênes, he found everybody up and stirring. They were going to kill an ox for the troops from the Donon. Hullin, Doctor Lorquin, and Louise were already gone with the men from the Sarre. Catherine Lefévre was busy, having her great waggon, with four horses, loaded with bread, meat, and brandy. People were coming and going in all directions, and all eagerly lending a helping hand in the preparations.

Robin had no opportunity of relating to anyone all that he had seen and heard. Besides, it seemed to himself so incredible that he really dared not open his mouth about it.

When he had retired to rest in his crib in the middle of the stable, he said to himself that no doubt Yégof had, during the winter, tamed a litter of young wolves, and that he babbled his folly to them in the same way that one talks sometimes to one's dog.

But, for all that, this strange encounter left a superstitious dread upon his mind, and even when he had arrived at a great age, the good old man never spoke of it without shuddering.

---

CHAPTER XII.

All was accomplished that Hullin had commanded: the defiles of the Zorne, and of the Sarre, were strongly defended; that of the Blanru, the extreme of the position, had been put in a state of defence by Jean-Claude himself and the three hundred men who formed his principal force.

It is thither, on the eastern acclivity of the Donon, two kilometres' distance from Grandfontaine, that we must transport ourselves to await the coming of events.

Above the high road which intersects the mountain two-thirds of the way up, was at that time to be observed a farm surrounded by a few acres of cultivated land, the homestead of Pelsly, the Anabaptist, a large building with a flat roof such as was needed to avoid being carried away by the strong gusts of wind. The back part, extending in the direction of the mountain top, was appropriated to the stables and pigsties.

The confederates were encamped all around. At their feet lay Grandfontaine and Framont, confined within a narrow gorge; farther off, at the turning of the valley, Schirmeck, and its old pile of feudal ruins; and in the greatest distance of all, the Bruche disappearing in zig-zag in the vapourish mists of Alsace. To their left rose the barren summit of the Donon, thickly strewn with rocks and some stubbly firs; while before them was the snow-covered road, with huge trees unstripped of their branches thrown across it. The melting snow suffered the yellow pasture land to appear from time to time; at others it formed large waves tossed to and fro by the fierce north wind.

The prospect was at once awful and sublime. Not a pedestrian, not a vehicle appeared on the road which winds through the valley till it gradually disappears in the distance: the whole place seemed like a desert.

The few fires scattered round about the farm, sending their puffs of dense smoke up to the sky, alone indicated the position of the camp. The mountaineers seated round the fires over which their food was cooking, their broad-brimmed hats pushed back on their heads, their guns slung on their shoulders, were quite sad and desponding: for three days they had been on the look-out.

In one of these groups, with crossed legs, rounded back, and pipe in mouth, were old Materne and his two sons.

From time to time Louise would appear at the door of the farm, then re-enter very quickly and set to work again. A large cock, scratching on the dunghill, was crowing with a hoarse voice; two or three fowls were strutting up and down among the bushes. All this was pleasant to behold; but what chiefly rejoiced the volunteers was to contemplate the magnificent sides of bacon, of a beautiful red and white, so temptingly blended, hanging before the fire on spits of green wood, and yielding their luscious fat drop by drop on the embers, and to go and fill their drinking-cups at a little barrel of brandy placed on Catherine Lefévre's cart.

About eight o'clock in the morning, a man suddenly made his appearance between the Great and Little Donon; the sentinels immediately observed him; he descended the pathway, waving his hat. In a few minutes they recognised Nickel Bentz, the old forest ranger of the Houpe.

The whole camp was astir; some one ran to inform Hullin, who had been sleeping for an hour in the homestead on a large mattrass, side by side with Doctor Lorquin and his dog Pluto.

They all three came out, accompanied by the old shepherd, Lagarmitte, whom they had named the trumpeter, and the Anabaptist Pelsly, a grave and sedate man, his arms plunged to the elbows in his tunic of hodden grey with brass hooks, a broad fringe of beard encircling his massive jaws, and the tassel of his cotton cap hanging halfway down his back.

Jean-Claude appeared delighted. "Well, Nickel, what's going on down below there?" he exclaimed.

"So far nothing new Master Jean-Claude; only on the Phalsbourg side there is a rumbling like a storm. Labarbe says it is cannon, for all night long flashes like lightning were seen passing over the forest of Hilde-house, and since this morning grey clouds have hung over the plain."

"The town is attacked," said Hullin; "but what news from Lutzelstein?"

"Nothing," replied Bentz.

"Then that is because the enemy will attempt to turn the place. In any case, the Allies are in the neighbourhood. There must be a terrible number of them in Alsace."

Then turning towards Materne, who was standing behind, "We cannot remain any longer in uncertainty," said he; "you must depart with your two sons to reconnoitre."

The old huntsman's countenance brightened.

"All right! I shall be able then to stretch my legs a little," said he, "and try to bring down one of those Cossacks."

"One moment, old boy. You have nothing to do with bringing down anyone; all you have to do is to keep a look-out and see what is going on. Frantz and Kasper can remain armed; but for you, I know you, and you must leave your carbine here, as well as your powder-flask and hunting-knife."

"What for?"

"Why, because you will have to go into the villages, and if you were taken armed, you would be shot on the spot."

"Shot?"

"Not a doubt of it. We are not regular troops; they do not take us prisoners, they shoot us. So you will proceed on your way to Schirmeck, with a stick in your hand, and your sons will accompany you and keep at a distance under shelter of the hedges, and within gun-shot. If any marauders attack you, they will come to your assistance, but if it is a column or a squadron, they will let you be taken."

"They will let me be taken!" indignantly exclaimed the old huntsman; "I should like to see that."

"Yes, Materne; and it will be the best way, for an unarmed man they will let go; an armed man they will shoot."

"Ah! I see, I see. Yes, yes, that's not a bad thought; I never thought to part from my carbine, Jean-Claude, but in war time we must obey orders; there, there is my gun, and my flask, and my knife. Who will lend me his blouse and stick?"

Nickel Bentz handed him his blue smock-frock and felt hat.

When they had changed clothes, any one might have taken the old huntsman, in spite of his thick, gray moustaches, for a simple peasant of the mountains.

His two boys, quite proud of belonging to this first expedition, examined the priming of their carbines, each with its bayonet used for hunting the wild boar straight and long as a sword. They felt the edge of their hunting-knives, threw their game-bags across their shoulders, and assured themselves that everything was in good order, casting flashing looks around them.

"Ha, ha!" said Doctor Lorquin, with a smile, "don't forget the advice of Master Jean-Claude. Prudence! A German more or less among a hundred thousand would not make much difference, whilst if either of you came back to us out of marching order, we should find it difficult to replace you."

"Oh! fear nothing, doctor; we shall keep our eyes open."

"My boys," replied Materne, formally, "are true hunters: they know how to wait, and take advantage of the right moment. They will not fire unless I call."

"Good luck to you!" shouted Hullin after them, as they ascended the snowy sides of the mountain, to avoid the felled trees. After a quarter of an hour's walking, they turned round by the fir forest, and were out of sight.

Then Hullin quietly returned to the farm, talking as he went with Nickel Bentz.

Doctor Lorquin walked behind, closely followed by Pluto, and all the others went back to their places around the camp-fires.

---

CHAPTER XIII.

Materne and his two sons walked on for a long time in silence; the weather had set in fine; the pale wintry sun shone on the dazzlingly white snow without melting it. The ground still remained firm and hard. At a distance, in the valley, were outlined, with surprising clearness, the branches of the fir trees, the reddish peaks of the rocks, the roofs of the cottages, with the icicles hanging from the eaves, their little glittering window-panes, and their pointed gables.

People were walking in the street of Grandfontaine; a group of young girls were standing round the fountain, and some old men in cotton night-caps were smoking their pipes at the doors of their cottages. All this miniature world beneath the blue vault of heaven went and came and lived without a breath or a sigh reaching the ears of the foresters.

The old huntsman halted at the outskirts of the wood, and said to his sons:—"I shall go down into the village, and see Dubreuil, who keeps the 'Fir Apple.'"

He pointed with his stick to a long white building, the windows and doors surrounded by a yellow border, and a branch of pine suspended from the wall by way of a sign.

"You will await me here; if there is no danger I will come out on the door-step, and raise my hat; you can then come and take a glass of wine with me."

He immediately descended the snow-covered mountain side, which took him full ten minutes, then made his way between two furrows, reached the meadow, crossed the village square; and his two sons, gun in hand, saw him enter the inn. A few moments after, he re-appeared at the door, and raised his hat, to their great delight.

In another quarter of an hour, they had rejoined their father in the large keeping-room of the "Fir Apple," a low apartment, heated by a large copper furnace, with a sanded floor, and long deal tables running down the centre of it.

When Materne entered, there was no one there but the innkeeper, Dubreuil, the fattest and most apoplectic of the publicans of the Vosges, with a big belly, round, goggle eyes, flat nose, a wart on his right cheek, and his triple chin falling in folds over his turned-down collar. With the exception of this curious personage, sitting in a large leathern arm-chair near the furnace, Materne was alone. He had just filled the glasses, the old clock was striking nine, and its wooden cock was flapping its wing with a curious, creaking sound.

"Your health, Father Dubreuil," said the two lads in a rough voice.

"Good day, brave boys, good day!" replied the innkeeper, forcing a smile. Then, in an oily voice, he demanded, "Is there nothing new?"

"Truly, no," replied Jasper; "this is winter, the time for hunting the wild boar."

Then, both of them depositing their carbines in the angle of the window, within reach in case of a surprise, passed a leg across the bench, and seated themselves opposite their father, who was at the upper end of the table. At the same time they drank, saying, "To our health!" which they were always careful to do.

"So, then," said Materne, turning towards the fat man, as if to resume the course of an interrupted conversation, "you think, Father Dubreuil, that we shall have nothing to fear in the Baronies, and that we may quietly continue to hunt the wild boar?"

"Ah! as to that, I can't say anything," exclaimed the innkeeper; "only at present the Allies have not yet passed Mutzig. And, besides, they are doing no harm to any one; they receive every one kindly, and with good will, who will take up arms against the Usurper."

"The Usurper! and who is he?"

"Who? Why, Napoleon Bonaparte is the Usurper, to be sure. Just cast your eyes on that wall opposite."

He pointed to a large paper placard, posted on the wall, close to the clock.

"Look at that, and you will see that the Austrians are our true friends."

Old Materne frowned till his eyebrows met; but immediately repressing any outward sign of emotion, he merely said, "Ah, bah!"

"Yes, just read that."

"But I do not know how to read, M. Dubreuil, nor my boys either. Just explain the thing to us yourself."

Then the old innkeeper, leaning his two great red hands on the arms of his chair, rose, panting and puffing like an ox, and placed himself before the placard, with his arms akimbo, while, with a pompous tone, he read a proclamation from the Allied Sovereigns, declaring that they were making war against Napoleon personally, and not against France; in consequence of which every one was to remain quiet, and not to interfere in the matter, under pain of being burnt, pillaged, and shot.

The three hunters heard all this, and regarded each other with a strange look.

When Dubreuil had finished, he went back to his seat, and said, "You see now!"

"And where did you get that from?" asked Kasper.

"Why, my lad, it's posted up everywhere."

"Well, we are glad of it," said Materne, laying his hand on the arm of Frantz, who was rising, with flashing eyes. "You want a light, Frantz? Here is my match-box."

Frantz sat down again, and the old man placidly resumed—"So our good friends, the Germans, will not harm anyone?"

"All peaceable persons have nothing to fear; but those miscreants who rise in rebellion will have everything taken from them, which is but just, for it is not right that the good should suffer for the wicked. You yourselves, for instance, instead of harm being done to you, you would be received with welcome in the service of the allied armies. You know the country; you would be useful as guides, and you would be liberally paid."

There was a moment's silence; the three huntsmen looked at each other again; the father had spread his hands upon the table, quite wide open, as if to urge his sons to be calm. Yet he himself had turned very pale.

The innkeeper, who saw nothing of all this, continued—"You would, indeed, have much more to fear in the woods of the Baronies from those robbers of Dagsburg, La Sarre, and the Blanru, who have risen in revolt, and would like to renew the struggle of '93."

"Are you quite sure of that?" asked Materne, making a violent effort over himself.

"Am I sure of it? You need only look out of the window to answer that question; you will see them on the road from the Donon. They have surprised the Anabaptist, Pelsly; they have bound him to the foot of his bed; they are pillaging, stealing, pulling up the roads; but let them beware. A few days hence they will see some strange things. It is not with thousands of men that they will be attacked, but with tens of thousands, with millions of thousands. They will be all hanged!"

Materne rose. "It is time to be thinking of returning," said he, in a short, dry tone. "By two o'clock we must be back in the woods, where we can chatter away like magpies. Good day to you, Father Dubreuil."

They went out hastily, no longer able to restrain themselves for rage.

"Reflect well on what I have said to you," the innkeeper called out after them from his great arm-chair.

Once outside, Materne said, while his lips trembled with fury—"If I had not left that man, I should have broken the bottle about his head."

"And I," said Frantz, "could hardly help running my bayonet into his fat paunch."

Kasper, with one foot on the step, seemed longing to return. As he clutched the handle of his hunting-knife, his countenance wore a terrible expression. But the old man took him by the arm, and drew him away, saying:

"Come away; we shall find another time to repay him for all this. Advise me—me—Materne—to betray my country! Hullin did well to tell us to be on our guard: he was right."

They then descended the street, casting such angry looks to the right and left as they passed, that people said inquiringly to each other—"Why, what can be the matter with them?"

As they reached the end of the village, opposite the Old Cross, quite close to the Church, they stopped, and Materne, in a calmer tone, showing them the path that winds round by Phramond, through the woods, said to his sons:

"You take that road. For my part, I shall follow this as far as Schirmeck. I shall not go too quickly, to allow you time to come up with me."

They separated, and the old huntsman in a pensive mood, and with head bowed down, walked on for a long time, asking himself by what inward power he had been able to prevent himself from breaking the head of the fat innkeeper. He answered that it was, no doubt, from the fear of compromising his sons. All the while musing on these things, Materne met, from time to time, flocks of oxen, sheep, and goats that were being driven into the mountains. There were some coming from Wisch, from Urmatt, and even from Mutzig. The poor beasts seemed ready to drop with fatigue.

"Where the deuce are you going in such a hurry?" cried the old huntsman to the dismal-looking shepherds; "have you no confidence, then, in the proclamation of the Russians and Austrians, you fellows?"

To which these gloomily replied, "Ah! it's all very well for you to laugh. Proclamations, indeed! We know what they are worth now. We are pillaged of all, robbed of everything; forced contributions are got out of us, and our horses, cows, oxen, and even our vehicles carried off."

"Stop! stop! stop! it can't be. What you tell me," said Materne, "quite bewilders me! What, people so brave, so friendly, the saviours of France! I can't believe it. Such a handsome proclamation."

"Well, then, come down to Alsace, and you will see. Seeing's believing, they say."

The poor fellows went on their way, shaking their heads with an air of profound indignation, while he laughed in his sleeve.

The farther Materne continued his route, the greater grew the number of the flocks of cattle; not only were there troops of these, lowing and bleating, but flocks of geese were to be seen as far as the eye could reach, screaming and cackling, dragging themselves along the ground, with flapping wings, and feet half-frozen with the cold. It was a pitiable sight!

As he drew near to Schirmeck, it was much worse still; people were flying in crowds, with their large vehicles loaded with barrels, smoked meats, furniture, women, and children, lashing the horses enough to kill them on the spot, as they kept repeating, in doleful tones: "We are lost! the Cossacks are coming!"

This cry, "The Cossacks! the Cossacks!" flew from one end of the road to the other like a whirlwind; women turned round, gaping-mouthed, with fear and wonder, and children stood upright in the carts and vehicles to see as far off as they could. Never was anything seen like it; and Materne felt indignant, and blushed for the terror of these people, who might have defended themselves, but for their selfishness and desire to save their property, which drove them to an unworthy flight.

At a branch of the road just by Schirmeck, Kasper and Frantz rejoined their father; and they all three entered the "Golden Keg" tavern, kept by the widow Faltaux, to the right of the road.

The poor woman and her two daughters were watching from a window the great migration, with tearful eyes and clasped hands.

In truth, the tumult increased from second to second. The cattle, the carriages, and the people, seemed to want to pass out over each other's backs; they seemed to have gone out of their minds, and were shouting, and even striking at each other in their mad desire to escape.

Materne pushed open the door, and, seeing the women more dead than alive, pale and dishevelled, he exclaimed, striking his stick on the ground—"What! Mother Faltaux! are you, too, out of your senses? What! you, who ought to set a good example to your daughters, have you lost all presence of mind; it's too bad!"

Then the old woman, turning round, replied, in a doleful voice—"Ah, my poor Materne! if you did but know—if you did but know!"

"Well, what? the enemy is here; he will not eat you."

"No, but they are swallowing up everything without mercy. Old Ursule, of Schlestadt, who arrived here yesterday evening, says that the Austrians will have nothing but knoépfe and noudels, the Russians schnaps, and the Bavarians sour-krout. And when they've stuffed themselves with all that up to their very throats, they keep still calling out, with their mouths full: 'schokolate! schokolate!' My God! my God! how shall we feed all these people?"

"I well know that it is very difficult," replied the old huntsman. "You can never give a jackdaw enough cheese; but, in the first place, where are these Cossacks, these Bavarians, and these Austrians? All the way from Grandfontaine we have not met a single one."

"They are in Alsace, round about Urmatt, and they are coming here."

"Well, in the meanwhile," said Kasper, "be so obliging as to serve us with a jug of wine; here is a crown piece; you can hide it easier than your barrels."

One of the girls went down into the cellar, and just at that moment several other people came in—an almanack-seller from the Strasbourg side, a waggoner in his smock-frock from Sarrebrück, and two or three of the inhabitants of Mutzig, of Hirsch, and of Schirmeck, who were escaping with their flocks and herds, and had hardly strength left to speak.

They all seated themselves at the same table, facing the window which commanded a view of the road; wine was brought them, and each one began to relate all that he knew. One said that the Allies were so numerous that they were obliged at night time to lie down to rest side by side in the valley of Hirschenthal, and so full of vermin, that after their departure the dead leaves walked about all alone in the woods. Another, that the Cossacks had set fire to a village in Alsace, because they had been refused candles for dessert after their dinner; that certain of them, especially the Calmucks, ate soap like cheese, and bacon-rind like cake; that a great number drank brandy by the pint, after having taken care to put handfuls of pepper in it; that you must hide everything from them, for they found everything that came in their way good to eat and drink. On this, the waggoner related how that, three days since, a division of the Russian army having passed in the night under the cannon of Bitsch, it had been obliged to station itself for more than an hour on the ice in the little village of Rorbach; and that this whole division had drunk out of a warming-pan which had been left out by mistake on the window-sill of an old woman of eighty; that this race of savages broke the ice to bathe, and then went into brick ovens to dry themselves; in short, that they were afraid of nothing but corporal schlague!

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 like great 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 circular basin 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 impossible to 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 seemingly quite 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.

---

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 the right, 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 take care, 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 the reveille. 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 with brandy 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.

---

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 with tears. 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, corporal schlague[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 mountaineers of 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 his flask, 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 keeping up 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 two fingers 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 whole length 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.

"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 corporal schlague behind 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 a Kaiserlick.

Such is the nature of men; provided they are happy themselves, the misery of others concerns them but little.