He swung himself into the saddle again and rode towards the village, but reined in his horse as he reached the top of a small eminence, whence he had a full moonlit view of Assais. A dark mass of combatants was heaving to and fro between him and the nearest houses of the village, whence came a sharp rattle of firearms; the crowd parted, and a portion of it approached him rapidly. His heart beat high as he recognized it to be a detachment of Uhlans that had escaped from the village and was now galloping towards him. There were but a dozen of them, and as he rode to meet them with a thundering "Halt!" they obeyed instantly, and an old sergeant, who recognized the lieutenant, gave him an account of an attack upon the village, which had taken place almost simultaneously with that upon the castle. The outlying guard must have been fallen upon unawares and murdered by the villagers, as not one shot had been heard from them. The Uhlans had been surprised in their quarters by an overwhelming force of franctireurs,--ten Frenchmen to one Prussian,--but in the general confusion this little band had managed to get to horse and cut their way through the enemy. "If the cursed Frenchman had only known how to handle their chassepots better," the old man added, "not an Uhlan would have escaped." He did not fear pursuit, "for the bumpkins had no idea of managing an Uhlan horse."
The sergeant's tale convinced Kurt of the tragic fate of the squadron,--probably for the most part surprised in their beds, murdered or taken prisoner; all thought of rescuing them was vain. And yet the young officer was sorely tempted to make one dash into Assais at the head of the fugitives to rescue any of their comrades who might be prisoners there. It cost him a hard struggle to decide to leave Assais without one blow struck at the foe; but he knew that duty called him to Nontron. He ordered three men to ride on before as quickly as their horses could carry them to announce the fate of the squadron, and with the rest he rode back to where the captain was lying, that he also might be safely transported thither.
CHAPTER XXV.
There was savage revelry in Assais. It was the first victory that these men, but lately mustered into service, had gained over the dreaded Prussians,--a victory all the more brilliant since it had been won at so little loss. Only two franctireurs had fallen in the short conflict,--five or six had been wounded, and the Baron de Nouart had been found dead in his room with his skull cloven.
This was the entire loss suffered by the fortunate victors, who had almost annihilated an entire squadron of those Uhlans of whose ferocity such fearful stories were told.
The light-hearted conquerors paid no heed to the fact that a couple of dozen of the enemy and several officers had escaped; they had no fear of the fugitives, they had not even attempted to pursue them.
Intoxicated with victory, the exultant franctireurs rushed through the village; the slight bonds of discipline that had restrained them at the beginning of the attack were rent asunder, and Count Repuin, their commander, with two or three French officers, attempted in vain to stem the torrent; all commands were unheeded.
The franctireurs associated the villagers with them in a search for any Prussians that might still be concealed in the village, murdering any such when found, and dragging their corpses through the mud with savage yells, that made night hideous. Even women, drunk with the desire for revenge, aided their husbands and sons in this ferocious work, mutilating the dead in their fury and inciting others to the same horrors. But there were exceptions; here and there a wife or maiden of Assais risked her life to conceal some Prussian fugitive from the fury of husband or lover.
Count Repuin looked on aghast at the savagery of the insane mob, who had thus thrown aside all law and order. He hated the Prussians from his soul, he was their implacable foe; but this wholesale murder, this cowardly mutilation of the dead, aroused his indignation; he felt that he had conjured up spirits that he lacked the power to control.
Again and again he attempted to restore some degree of order, but his commands were received with shouts of derision, and he owed it to the interference of some of his officers that the rage of the franctireurs was not turned against himself. There were scowling looks accompanying muttered curses of the foreigner who dared to intercede for Prussians, and he was obliged to look on inactive at the murderous work.