The whole escort, the partisans, the doctor, all had grown silent: so many terrible emotions had filled them with endless thoughts such as do not fall within the experience of every-day life. They said to themselves: "What are men that they destroy, harass, and ruin each other in this manner? Why do they hate each other so? And what spirit of evil is it that thus excites them?"
But Divès and his men were not at all troubled by these events: they galloped along, laughing and boasting.
"For my part," said the big smuggler, "I never saw such a farce before. Ha, ha, ha! if I lived a thousand years, I should laugh at it still." Then he became more serious, and exclaimed: "All the same, Yégof is the cause of this. One must be blind not to see that it was he who led the Germans to the Blutfeld. I shall be sorry if he has been struck down by a piece of my wagon; I have something better in store for him than that. All that I wish is that he may keep in good health till we meet somewhere in a lonely corner of the wood. It is no matter whether it be in one year, ten years, twenty years, provided only that we meet. The longer it is deferred, the more savage my determination becomes: the daintiest morsels are eaten cold, like a boar's head in white wine."
He said this with an air of good-humor, but those who knew him perceived beneath it a serious danger for Yégof.
Half an hour later, they all reached the plateau on which the farm of Bois-de-Chênes was situated.
CHAPTER XXI
"ALL IS LOST"
Jérome of St. Quirin had managed to make good his retreat to the farm, and since midnight he had occupied the plateau.
"Who goes there?" cried his sentinels as the escort approached.