Hullin, in a low voice, proceeded to relate all he had seen and heard; he told of the works around the city, the proclamation of the state of siege, the wagons loaded with wounded on the Place d'Armes, and his meeting with the old sergeant. From time to time he paused, and the old lady half-closed her eyes, as if graving his words upon her memory, and when Hullin spoke of the wounded she gasped:
"But Gaspard has escaped?"
At the end of the sabot-maker's sorrowful story there was a long pause. How many bitter thoughts were burning in the minds of both! At last Catherine broke the silence:
"You see, Jean-Claude," said she, "Yegof was right."
"He was right," replied Jean-Claude, "but what does that prove? It would, indeed, be astonishing if a fool—wandering, as he does, everywhere, from village to village—in Alsace, in Lorraine—saw nothing, heard nothing; and if he should not occasionally utter a truth in the midst of his nonsense. Everything is mingled in his head, and you imagine you understand what he does not understand himself. But enough of the fool, Catherine. The Austrians are coming, and the question is whether we shall let them pass quietly through our mountains, or defend ourselves like mountaineers."
"Defend ourselves!" cried the old woman, her pale cheeks flushing. "Think you we have lost the courage of our fathers? Did not the blood of their men, women, and children flow like water, and no one think of yielding?"
"Then you are for defence, Catherine?"
"Ay! while a drop of blood remains in my body. Let them come. The old woman will be in their path."
Her long, gray hair in her excitement seemed to quiver upon her head; her cheeks trembled and glowed, and her eyes flashed fire. She seemed even full of a fierce beauty—of a beauty like that of Margareth of whom Yegof spoke. Hullin stretched his hand to her in silence.