The enemy's staff were plainly seen on horseback around the spring of the village of Charmes. There a stout officer was observing the rock through a long field-glass; behind him was Yegof, to whom he turned from time to time to question. The women and children of the village looked on at some distance away, as if enjoying the scene, and five or six Cossacks caracoled about. The smuggler could bear no more; he took Hullin aside.
"Look," said he, "at that long line of shakos glistening along the Sarre, and nearer, those others running like hares through the valley. They are Kaiserliks, are they not? Well, what are they going to do, Jean-Claude?"
"They are going to surround the mountain."
"That is clear. How many men do you think they have?"
"From three to four thousand."
"Without counting those in the open country. Well, what would you have Pivrette do with his three hundred men against that mass of vagabonds? I put the question frankly, Hullin!"
"He can do nothing," replied brave Jean-Claude simply. "The Germans know that our munitions are at Falkenstein; they fear a rising after they enter Lorraine, and wish to secure their rear. The enemy's general sees that he cannot overcome us by force; he has decided to reduce us by famine. All this, Marc, is surely true; but we are men; we will do our duty; we will die here!"
There was a moment's silence. Marc-Dives knit his brows, but seemed not at all convinced.
"We will die?" he repeated. "I do not see why we should die; that idea did not enter our heads; there are too many people who would be glad of it if we did."
"What would you do?" asked Hullin shortly; "do you want to surrender?"