You may imagine the state of excitement at the farm, the comings and
goings of the servants, enthusiastic shouts of all, the clinkings of
glasses, and clatterings of knives and forks, the joy painted on every
face, when Jean-Claude, Doctor Lorquin, the Maternes, and all those
who had followed Catherine's vehicle, were installed in the large
house-room at the farm, around a magnificent ham, and had set steadily
to work to celebrate their future triumphs cup in hand.
It chanced to be on a Tuesday, always a grand cooking day at the farm.
The great kitchen fire had been blazing since morning; old Duchêne,
in his shirt-sleeves, was drawing from the oven innumerable manchets
of bread, the good smell of which pervaded the whole house. Annette
took them from his hands, and piled them up in a corner of the hearth.
Louise waited on the guests, and Catherine Lefévre superintended
everything, calling out as she did so:
"Make haste, children, make haste, the third batch must be ready by the
time the men from the Sarre arrive. That will make six pounds of bread
a man."
Hullin, from his place, watched the old farm-mistress as she came and
went.
"What a woman!" he exclaimed, "what a woman! Go and find me such
another the whole country round! She forgets nothing! The health of
Catherine Lefévre!"
"The health of Catherine Lefévre!" was loudly responded by all the rest.
There was a renewed clinking of glasses, and then the talk fell again
on marches, attacks, and entrenchments. Every one felt inspired by an
invincible confidence; every one said to himself, "All will prosper."
But Heaven was reserving for them on that day a still greater pleasure
and surprise, and especially for Louise and Dame Lefévre. Towards
noon, just as a bright ray of the winter's sun was making the snow
look whiter than ever and melting the hoar-frost on the window-panes,
and the great red cock thrusting his head out of the fowl-house was
flapping his wings and making the echoes of the Valtin resound with his
shrill cry of triumph, all of a sudden the watch-dog, old Yohan, who
was quite toothless, and very nearly blind, began to give vent to a
succession of barks at once so joyous and so plaintive, that everyone's
attention was attracted.
The great kitchen fire was blazing at its height; the third batch was
being drawn from the oven, and yet Catherine Lefévre herself stopped to
listen.
"There is something going to happen," said she, in a low tone.
Then she added, in a voice that shook with emotion:
"Since my boy left home, Yohan has never barked like that."
At the same moment rapid steps were heard crossing the court-yard;
Louise sprang towards the door, exclaiming, "It is he! it is he!" and
almost immediately a trembling hand was at the latch; the door opened,
and a soldier appeared at the threshold, but a soldier, so lank,
sunburnt, and haggard, his old grey overcoat with pewter buttons so
worn out, his long cloth gaiters so torn and discoloured, that all the
spectators were speechless with surprise.
He seemed unable to take a step farther, as he firmly put the butt-end
of his gun to the ground. The tip of his eagle nose--the exact
counterpart of Dame Lefévre's--shone like bronze, his red moustaches
quivered; he looked just like one of those lean, hungry hawks driven
by famine in winter to the stable doors. He looked straight into the
kitchen, and his cheeks seemed to turn pale beneath their tinge of
sun-brown, and his hollow eyes filled with tears as he stood there
without being able to speak a word or advance a step.
Out of doors the old dog kept leaping, and whining, and rattling his
chain as if he would break it; within, not a sound could be heard but
the crackling of the fire, so deep was the silence; but very soon
the voice of Catherine Lefévre was heard exclaiming, in heartrending
tones:--
"Gaspard!--my child! It is you!"
"Yes, mother!" replied the soldier, in a voice choking with emotion.
And in a second Louise had begun to sob, whilst all in the vast room
rose at once with a noise like thunder.
All ran towards him, with Master Jean-Claude at their head, shouting:
"Gaspard!--Gaspard Lefévre!"
But Gaspard and his mother were clasped in each other's arms:
this woman, usually so strong-minded, so courageous, was weeping
unrestrainedly; her son shed no tears, but held her close to his heart,
his red moustaches buried in her gray locks, as he murmured:
"Mother! mother! ah! how often have I thought of you!"
Then, in a louder voice:
"Louise!" said he, "I saw Louise!"
And Louise rushed into his arms, and they mingled their tears and
kisses together.
"Ah! you did not know me again, Louise!"
"Oh! yes--oh! yes, I knew you directly by your step."
Old Duchêne, with his cotton night-cap in his hand, stood by the fire
stammering:
"Gracious Lord--is it possible? my poor child--how changed he is!"
He had brought Gaspard up, and always pictured him since his departure
fresh and ruddy-cheeked, in a handsome uniform with red facings. It
deranged all his ideas to see him otherwise.
At this moment Hullin, raising his voice, said:
"And we, Gaspard, all of us, your old friends, have you nothing to say
to us?"
Then the brave fellow turned round, and uttered a shout of recognition:
"Hullin! Doctor Lorquin! Materne! Frantz! all! they are all here!"
And the embracings began again, but this time more joyously, mingled
with shouts of laughter and hearty hand-shakings, that seemed as if
they would never come to an end.
"Ah! Doctor, is that you? Ah! my old Papa Jean-Claude!"
They looked at him again and again, staring him full in the face with
countenances beaming with joy, as if to assure themselves that it
was really he; then, linking their arms in his, they carried rather
than led him into the kitchen, and Dame Catherine followed with his
knapsack, Louise with the gun, Duchêne with the tall shako, all
laughing and crying by turns, and drying their eyes and cheeks. You
never saw anything like it.
"Come, let us sit down--let us drink!" exclaimed Doctor Lorquin; "this
is the _bouquet_ of the feast."
"Ah! my poor Gaspard, how glad I am to see you come back again safe and
sound," said Hullin. "He! he! without wishing to flatter you, I like
you better as you are than with your fat red cheeks. You are a man now,
i'faith! You remind me of the old soldiers of my own time, the men of
Sambre, of Egypt, ha! ha! ha! we had no fat cheeks among us! we were
not sleek and shining! We looked more like hungry rats who have just
caught sight of a piece of cheese, and our teeth were long and white, I
warrant you."
"Yes, yes; that does not surprise me, Papa Jean-Claude," replied
Gaspard. "Sit down, sit down; we shall talk more at our ease. But what
is this?--what brings you all to the farm?"
"What! you do not know? All the country is up in arms, from the Houpe
to St. Sauveur, to defend ourselves."
"Yes, the Anabaptist of Painbach told me something of this as I was
passing; it is true, then?"
"Is it true? Why, everyone is engaged in it, and I am general-in-chief."
"All right, all right; a thousand thunders! Let those dogs of
_kaiserlicks_ have their own way in our country! that wouldn't suit
me at all. But just pass me the knife. Whatever happens, it's always
jolly to find oneself at home again. I say, Louise, just come and sit
beside me a little. Look, Papa Jean-Claude, with my little girl on
one side of me, that capital ham on the other, and a jug of good wine
forming the line in front, it would not take me a fortnight to get into
condition again, and my comrades would not know me again when I joined
my company."
Everybody had sat down again, and was fully employed in watching with
wondering looks the brave soldier, cutting, carving, quaffing, then
casting tender glances at Louise and his mother, and replying to one
and another without at the same time losing a single mouthful.
The farm people, Duchêne, Annette, Robin, and Dubourg, ranged behind in
a half-circle, stood gazing upon Gaspard in a sort of ecstasy; Louise
kept filling up his glass, while Dame Lefévre, sitting near the oven,
looked over the contents of his knapsack, and finding there nothing but
two old shirts quite black with dirt, and with holes large enough to
put your hand in, a pair of shoes down at heel, an empty tobacco-pouch,
a comb with three teeth, and an empty bottle, she lifted up her hands,
murmuring to herself: "Good Lord! need we be surprised that so many die
of starvation!"
Doctor Lorquin, at the sight of such a vigorous appetite, gleefully
rubbed his hands, as he muttered from under his thick beard: "What a
fellow it is! What a digestion! What a set of teeth! Why, he could
crack pebbles like nuts!"
And even old Materne said to his boys: "In my time, after a two or
three days' hunt on the mountain tops in winter, I have known what it
was, too, to have the appetite of a wolf, and to eat the haunch of a
roe-buck at a sitting; now I am grown old, a pound or two of meat is
enough for me. Age makes all the difference!"
Hullin had lit his pipe, and seemed absent and thoughtful; it was
plain that he was uneasy about something. After a few moments, seeing
Gaspard's appetite begin to relax, he abruptly exclaimed: "But tell
us, Gaspard, if I may make so bold as to ask, how does it happen that
you are here? We thought you were still on the Strasbourg side of the
Rhine!"
"Ah! ha! old boy, I understand," said young Lefévre, with a knowing
wink; "there are so many deserters; is it not so?"
"Oh! such an idea as that would never enter my head! and yet----"
"You would not be sorry to know if we are all right and correct! I
don't blame you, Papa Jean-Claude; you are quite right; those who don't
answer to the muster-roll when the _kaiserlicks_ are in France, richly
deserve to be shot! Make your mind happy; there's my leave."
Hullin, who had no false delicacy, read: "Twenty-four hours' leave of
absence to Grenadier Gaspard Lefévre, of the 2nd company of the 1st
regiment.--January the 3rd, 1814. GEMEAU, chief of the battalion."
"Good, good," said he; "put it up in your knapsack; you might chance to
lose it."
All his good-humour had returned.
"Look you, my children," said he, "I know what love is; there is bad
and good about it; but it is bad in particular for young soldiers
who come too near their homes after a campaign. They are capable of
forgetting all and everything till they find themselves brought back
with two or three gendarmes at their heels. I've seen that happen
before now. But, however, since everything is clear and straightforward
here, let's drain a bumper of _rikevir_. What say you, Catherine? The
men of the Sarre may arrive from one moment to the next, and we have
not an instant to lose."
"You say well, Jean-Claude," replied the old farm-mistress, sadly. "Go
down and bring up three bottles from the little cellar, Annette."
The servant-girl ran quickly out at her mistress's orders.
"But this leave, Gaspard," continued Catherine, "how much longer has it
to run?"
"I received it yesterday, at eight in the evening, at Vasselonne,
mother. The regiment is in retreat upon Lorraine; I must rejoin it this
evening at Phalsbourg."
"Well and good; you have still seven hours before you. It will not take
you more than six to get there, though there is a good deal of snow at
Foxthâl."
The good woman came and sat down by her son. Her heart was full almost
to bursting; she could not conceal her grief. Everyone was deeply
touched. Louise, with her arm on Gaspard's worn-out epaulet, and her
cheek pressed against his, was sobbing as if her heart would break.
Hullin knocked the ashes out of his pipe on the corner of the table; he
sat silently, with knitted brows and compressed lips; but as soon as
the bottles made their appearance and were uncorked, "Come, Louise!"
he exclaimed, "courage! what the deuce! All this will be only for a
short time; it must come to an end some way or another, and I say that
it will end well. Gaspard will come back, and we shall have a happy
wedding."
He filled up the glasses as he spoke, and Catherine wiped her eyes as
she murmured: "And to think that all these robbers are the cause of
this happening to us! Ah, let them come! let them only come here!"
They drank, though in a melancholy sort of way, but the good old
_rikevir_, as it found its way to the hearts of these worthy people,
soon cheered their drooping spirits. Gaspard, stronger than he had
appeared at first, began to relate the terrible affairs of Bautzen,
Lutzen, Leipzig, and Hanau, where the conscripts had fought like
veterans, gaining victory upon victory until traitors found their way
among them. Everyone listened with silent interest; Louise, when the
recital touched upon moments of great danger--crossing rivers under the
enemy's fire, carrying a battery at the point of the bayonet--pressing
his arm as if to defend him. Jean-Claude's eyes sparkled. The doctor
always wanted to know the exact position of the ambulances; Materne and
his sons stretched out their necks, and showed by the rigid compression
of their massive red-bearded jaws how eagerly they were drinking in
every word that fell from his lips, and with the aid of the generous
wine, the general enthusiasm increased each moment, and every now
and then vented itself in muttered expressions. "Oh! the dogs! the
villains! let them beware! All is not over yet!"
Dame Lefévre admired the courage and good fortune of her son in the
midst of these events, the memory of which will be preserved from
generation to generation. But when Lagarmitte, grave and solemn, in
his long gray gaberdine, his large black felt hat upon his head, his
wooden horn on his shoulder, crossed the kitchen, and, standing in
the doorway, announced, "The men from the Sarre are coming!" then all
this excitement disappeared, and everyone rose, thinking only of the
terrible struggle which was shortly going to begin on the mountain.
Louise threw her arms round Gaspard's neck, exclaiming: "Gaspard, do
not leave us! Stay with us!"
He turned very pale. "I am a soldier," said he; "my name is Gaspard
Lefévre; I love thee, Louise, a thousand times better than my own life,
but a Lefévre knows nothing but his duty!" And he unclasped her arms
from about his neck. Then Louise sank, half-fainting, down, and, with
her head lying on the table, began to groan aloud. Gaspard rose.
Hullin placed himself between them, and pressing his hands warmly,
while his own strong frame shook with emotion, "Right, my lad!" said
he; "spoken like a man, and a brave one, too."
His mother approached more calmly to buckle his knapsack on to his
shoulders. She performed that task with knit brows, her lips firmly
compressed under her long hooked nose, without uttering a sigh; but two
big tears slowly coursed each other down the furrows in her cheeks. And
when she had finished, turning round with her sleeve to her eyes, she
said, "There; go, go, my child, thy mother blesses thee. If war seizes
thee for its prey, still thou wilt not be dead to us. See, Gaspard,
there is thy place; there, between Louise and me; thou wilt ever be
there! This poor child is not yet old enough to know that to live is
but to suffer."
Everyone went out. Louise, left alone, began to weep and groan afresh.
A few moments after, as she heard the butt end of his gun resounding on
the flagstones and the outer door opening, she rushed out after him,
shrieking in heartrending tones, "Gaspard! Gaspard! see, I will be
firm; I will not cry any more; I do not want to keep you back--oh, no,
but do not leave me in anger; have pity on me!"
"Anger! angry with you, my darling! Oh, no, no," he replied. "But to
see you so miserable breaks my heart. Ah! if you had but a little
firmness now, I should be happy."
"Well, then, I have; kiss me. See, I am no longer the same. I will try
to be like our good mother Lefévre."
They exchanged their parting embrace with more calmness. Hullin stood
by, holding the gun; Catherine waved her hand, as much as to say, "Go,
go--enough."
And he, suddenly seizing his weapon, departed, with a firm step, and
without once turning his head.
On the other side, the men of the Sarre, with their pickaxes and
hatchets, were climbing in procession the steep and rugged ascent of
the Valtin.
At the end of five minutes, at the turning by the great oak, Gaspard
looked round, and waved his hand. Catherine and Louise answered him.
Hullin then came forward to meet his men. Doctor Lorquin alone
remained with the women; when Gaspard, continuing his way, was quite
out of sight, he exclaimed:--"Catherine Lefévre, you may be proud of
having so brave a man for your son. Heaven speed and prosper him!"
They heard the distant voices of the new-comers, who were laughing
gaily among themselves, and marching to war as to a marriage festival.
[Illustration]