The two chiefs embraced; and, as they groped along in the dark night, seeking to reach the edge of the rock, suddenly Materne cried out, "Take care, the precipice is near!"
They stopped short and looked down; but nothing was to be seen: a current of cold air ascending from the abyss alone warned them of the danger. The peaks and gorges round were all plunged in darkness. On the hill-sides in front the flashes of the fusillade passed like lightning, illuminating now an old oak, now the heather, or the black outline of some rock; and groups of men were coming and going, as though in the midst of a conflagration. Two thousand feet below, in the depth of the gorge, could be heard dull sounds of galloping horses, and the clamors of command. Now, the shout of a mountaineer hailing another was prolonged from peak to peak, and arose to the Falkenstein like a sigh.
"It is Marc!" said Hullin; "it is Marc's voice!"
"Yes, it is Marc, who bids us have courage," replied Jérome.
The others looked around them with outstretched necks, their hands grasping the rock. The fusillade continued with a vivacity that betrayed the fury of the battle; but nothing could be seen. Oh! how they wished to take part in this supreme struggle! With what ardor would they not have thrown themselves into the fire! The fear of being abandoned once more, of seeing by daylight their defenders retreating, rendered them speechless with terror.
Day began to dawn; the pale light arose behind the black summits, and began to illumine the gloomy valleys, and soon the fog of the abyss turned to silvery mists. Hullin, looking across the openings of these clouds, at length made out the position. The Germans had lost the heights of Valtin, and the plain of Bois-de-Chênes. They were massed in the valley of Charmes, at the foot of the Falkenstein, so as to obtain shelter from their adversaries' fire. Piorette, master of Bois-de-Chênes, had thrown out outworks, in front of the rock, on the side of the descent to Charmes. He was pacing to and fro, his pipe in his mouth, and carbine slung across his shoulders; and the blue axes of the wood-cutters glistened in the rising sun. On the left of the village, toward Valtin, in the midst of the furze, Marc Divès, on a small black horse, with a long tail, his blade by his side, pointed to the ruins and the sledge road; while an infantry officer and a few National Guards were listening to him. Gaspard Lefèvre stood alone, in front of the group, leaning on his gun; and, on the summit of the hill, by the wood, two or three hundred men were keeping watch.
The sight of the small number of their defenders caused the hearts of the besieged to grow fearful; all the more so, as the Germans were seven or eight times superior in numbers, and had already begun to form columns of attack, to regain the positions they had lost. Horsemen were conveying on all sides the general's orders, and the bayonets began to defile.
"It is all over," said Hullin to Jérome. "What are five or six hundred men to do against four thousand in line of battle? The Phalsbourgers will return to their houses and say, 'We have done our duty.' And Piorette will be crushed."
The others thought so too; and their despair was brought to a climax when they suddenly saw a long file of Cossacks riding furiously along the valley of Charmes, with Yégof the madman galloping like the wind at their head, his beard, horse's tail, dogskin, and red hair floating wildly in the air. He looked up at the rock, and brandished his lance above his head. Reaching the bottom of the valley, he made at once for the enemy's staff, and coming up to the general, he indicated by gestures the other side of the plateau of Bois-de-Chênes.
"Ah, the brigand!" shouted Hullin. "See, he tells them that Piorette has no outworks on that side, that they must go round the mountain."