At the bottom of the slope lay hundreds of wounded. The snow was red with blood, and in the midst of heaps of slain were two young officers yet living, but crushed beneath the weight of their dead horses.
It was horrible! But men are oftentimes savage as the beasts of the forests. Not a man among the flushed mountaineers seemed to have a thought for all the misery he saw before him; it even seemed to rejoice many.
Little Riffi, carried away by a sublime ardor for plunder, glided down the steep. He had caught a glimpse of a splendid horse, that of the colonel whom Materne had shot, which, protected by a corner of the rock, stood safe and sound.
"You are mine!" cried the tailor, as he seized the bridle. "How astonished my wife Sapience will be!"
All the others envied him as he mounted his prize; but their envy was soon checked when they saw the noble animal dash at full speed toward the Austrians. The little tailor tugged at the bridle, and shouted, and cursed, and prayed, but all to no purpose. Materne would have fired, but he feared that in that wild gallop he might kill the man, and soon Riffi disappeared among the enemy's bayonets.
All thought he would be massacred at once, but an hour later they saw him pass through the street of Grandfontaine, his hands bound behind his back, and a corporal following with uplifted cane.
Poor Riffi! He did not long enjoy his triumph, and his comrades at length laughed at his sad fate as merrily as if he had been a Kaiserlik. Such is the nature of man; as long as he feels no ill himself, the troubles of others affect him little.
Chapter XV.
The mountaineers were wild with exultation; their triumph knew no bounds, and they looked upon each other as so many heroes.
Catherine, Louise, Doctor Larquin, all who had remained at the farm, rushed out to greet the victors. They scanned the marks of bullets, gazed at the blood-stained slope; then the Doctor ordered Baumgarten and Spitz to the hospital, although the latter insisted on still remaining at his post.