"What! Blutfeld is taken?"
"Yes, Dame Catherine; who the deuce would have ever thought that the Germans could approach that way? A defile almost impracticable for foot passengers, hemmed in as it is between perpendicular rocks, where the shepherds themselves can hardly descend with their flocks of goats. Well, they passed through there, two by two; surprised Roche-Creuse; they killed Labarbe, and then fell upon Jerôme, who defended himself like a lion until nine o'clock in the evening; but, at the last, he was obliged to fly into the fir forest, and leave the passage free to the kaiserlicks. That is the whole of the story. It is fearful. There must have been in the country some man cowardly enough, vile enough, to guide the enemy to our rear, and deliver us up, bound hand and foot. Oh! the wretch!" exclaimed Lorquin, his voice quivering with rage. "I am not naturally cruel; but if he should fall into my clutches, I would tear him to pieces! Houp, Bruno! come up!"
The volunteers still continued their way along the rising ground, silently, like shadows.
The sleigh again set off at full gallop, then, after a while, relaxed its speed; the horse was panting for breath.
The old farm-mistress continued silent, to arrange these fresh ideas in her head.
"I begin to understand," said she, after a few moments; "we have been attacked to-night in front and on the side."
"Exactly so, Catherine; fortunately, ten minutes before the attack, one of Marc Divès' men—a smuggler, Zimmer, the ex-dragoon—came in breathless haste to put us on our guard. But for that, we should have been lost. He came up with our vanguard, after having ran the gauntlet of a whole regiment of Cossacks on the side of the Grosmann. The poor devil had received a terrible sword-thrust; his bowels were hanging over his saddle; were they not, Frantz?"
"Yes," gloomily replied the young huntsman.
"And what did he say?" asked the old farm-mistress.