And he, who was never known to weep, embraced his boys, while the tears rained down his cheeks, and they, no less moved, sobbed like little children.
But the old man soon recovered himself and cried with a forced gayety:
"We have had a rough day, lads; let us take a cup of wine—I am thirsty."
Throwing a last glance at the bloody slope, and seeing that the sentries whom Hullin had stationed at intervals of thirty paces were all at their posts, the old man led the way to the farm-house.
They were passing carefully through the corpse-piled trench, when a feeble voice exclaimed:
"Is that you, Materne?"
"Ah poor Rochart! Pardon! forgive me if I hurt you," said the old hunter, bending over the wounded man; "how comes it that you are still here?"
"Because I cannot move hence; inasmuch as I have no legs," answered the other with a mournful sort of merriment.
The three hunters stood silent for a moment, when the old wood-cutter continued:
"Tell my wife, Materne, that behind the cupboard, in a stocking, she will find six crowns. I saved them in case either of us should fall sick; but I have no further need—"