"We are going to have war; we are going to fight, to defend the mountains!"
"We are going! We are going!" exclaimed the good man, astounded.
"Certainly. Are we not?" she asked, her smile disappearing at once.
"I must leave you for some time, my child."
"Leave me? Oh! no, no. I will go with you; it is agreed. See, my little bundle is all ready, and I am making up yours. Do not be uneasy; let me fix everything, and you will be satisfied."
Hullin stood stupefied.
"But, Louise," he cried, "you are dreaming. Think, my child! We must pass long winter nights without a roof to cover us; we must bear hardship, fatigue, cold, snow, hunger, and countless dangers! A musket-ball would mar my pretty bird's beauty."
"You are only trying your little Louise," cried she, now in tears, and flinging herself upon his neck. "You will not leave me here alone."
"But you will be better here; you will have a good fire and food. Besides, you will receive news of us every day."