"All will yet go well, Jean-Claude, with God's help."
Catherine, when she arrived in front of the saw-mill, ordered Labarbe to open the little cask of brandy she had brought from the farm-house. Hullin, approaching the fire, met Materne and his two sons.
"You come late," said the old hunter.
"True, but there was much to be done, and too much yet remains to be done to lose more time. Lagarmitte, wind your horn."
Lagarmitte blew until his cheeks seemed bursting, and the groups scattered along the path, and at the skirts of the wood hastened to assemble, and soon all were collected before the saw-mill. Hullin mounted a pile of logs, and spoke amid the deepest silence:
"The enemy," said he, "crossed the Rhine the night before last. He is pressing on to our mountains to enter Lorraine. Strasbourg and Huningue are blockaded. In three or four days at most the Germans and the Russians will be upon us."
A shout of "Long live France!" arose.
"Ay, long live France!" cried Jean-Claude; "for, if the allies reach Paris, all our liberties are gone! Forced labor, tithes, privileges, and gibbets will flourish once more. If you wish that they should, let the allies pass."
A dark scowl seemed to settle on every man's face.