"I begin to understand," said she at length; "we were attacked tonight in front and flank."
"Just so, Catherine; and, by good fortune, ten minutes before the attack, one of Marc-Dives's men—the smuggler Zimmer, an old dragoon—arrived at full speed to warn us. If he had not come, we were lost. He fell among our outposts after having passed through a detachment of Cossacks on the plateau of Grosmann. The poor fellow had received a terrible sabre-thrust, and the blood was pouring from his wound."
"And what did he say?" asked the old woman.
"He had only time to cry, 'To arms! We are turned! Jerome sent me—Labarbe is dead—the Germans passed through Blutfeld!'"
"He was a brave man!" murmured Catherine.
"Yes, a brave man!" replied Frantz, drooping his head.
All became silent, and thus for a long time the sledge kept on through the narrow, winding valley. From time to time they were forced to stop, so deep was the snow, and then three or four mountaineers took the horse by the bridle and pulled him on.
"No matter," exclaimed Catherine, emerging from her reverie, "Hullin might have told me—"
"But if he had told you of the two attacks," interrupted the doctor, "you would not have come away."
"And who dare hinder my doing as I wish? If it pleased me to descend from this sledge, am I not free to do so? I had forgiven Jean-Claude—I repent having done so!"