"Master Jean-Claude, come! I believe they are advancing."
"I am coming, Simon," answered Hullin, rising. "Embrace me, Louise. Courage, my child; fear not, all will go well."
He clasped her to his bosom and his eyes filled with tears. She seemed more dead than living.
"Be sure," said he to Catherine, "to let no one go out or approach the windows."
He rushed from the house to the edge of the plateau, and cast his eyes toward Grandfontaine and Framont, thousands of feet below him.
The Germans had arrived the evening before, a few hours after the Cossacks. They had passed the night, to the number of five or six thousand, in barns, stables, or under sheds, and were now clustering like ants, pouring from every door in tens and twenties, and hurrying to buckle on knapsacks, fasten sabres, or fix bayonets.
Others—cavalry—Uhlans, Cossacks, hussars, in green, gray, and blue uniforms, faced with red or yellow, with caps of waxed cloth or lamb-skin, were hastily saddling their horses or rolling their blankets.
Trumpets were sounding at every street-corner, and drummers were tightening their drum-cords. Every phase of military life seemed there.
A few peasants, stretching their heads out of their windows, gazed at all this; women crowded at the garret-windows, and innkeepers filled flasks.