"It is easy for you to laugh at us. Proclamations indeed! We know what they are worth. Those Russians and Austrians are pillaging and stealing all they can lay hands on; laying forced contributions, carrying off horses, cows, cattle, wagons."
"Hold there; it cannot be possible!" returned Materne. "They are the saviours of France; her brave, good friends. I cannot believe it. Such a beautiful proclamation!" "Go down into Alsace and see!" The poor fellows went on, dragging themselves wearily along, while the old hunter laughed bitterly.
As he approached Schirmeck, things grew worse. Wagons, cattle, horses, even flocks of geese, thronged the road, mingled with women and children, carrying whatever of their household effects they could bear off, and often beating their breasts and tearing their hair. The air was filled with wailing and lamentation, while ever and anon a cry arose,
"We are lost! The Cossacks! the Cossacks!"
These words of fear passed like lightning through the mass; women fainted, children stood up in the wagons to see further along the road, and Materne blushed for the cowardice of people who might have made a stout defence against the enemy.
Just outside Schirmeck, Frantz and Kasper rejoined their father, and all three entered the tavern of the Golden Key, kept by the widow Faltaux.
The poor woman and her two daughters were standing at the window gazing at the flight, and wringing their hands; for indeed the tumult was increasing every moment, and now cattle, men, and wagons fairly blocked the street, and shouts, screams, and even curses, arose on all sides.
Materne pushing open the door and seeing the three women standing pale, groaning, more dead than alive, struck his staff angrily upon the floor, and cried:
"Are you becoming mad, Mother Faltaux! You, who should set your daughters a good example? It is shameful!"
The old woman turned round and replied in a heart-broken voice: