Materne and his two sons walked on for a long time in silence; the
weather had set in fine; the pale wintry sun shone on the dazzlingly
white snow without melting it. The ground still remained firm and hard.
At a distance, in the valley, were outlined, with surprising clearness,
the branches of the fir trees, the reddish peaks of the rocks, the
roofs of the cottages, with the icicles hanging from the eaves, their
little glittering window-panes, and their pointed gables.
People were walking in the street of Grandfontaine; a group of young
girls were standing round the fountain, and some old men in cotton
night-caps were smoking their pipes at the doors of their cottages. All
this miniature world beneath the blue vault of heaven went and came and
lived without a breath or a sigh reaching the ears of the foresters.
The old huntsman halted at the outskirts of the wood, and said to his
sons:--"I shall go down into the village, and see Dubreuil, who keeps
the 'Fir Apple.'"
He pointed with his stick to a long white building, the windows and
doors surrounded by a yellow border, and a branch of pine suspended
from the wall by way of a sign.
"You will await me here; if there is no danger I will come out on the
door-step, and raise my hat; you can then come and take a glass of wine
with me."
He immediately descended the snow-covered mountain side, which took him
full ten minutes, then made his way between two furrows, reached the
meadow, crossed the village square; and his two sons, gun in hand, saw
him enter the inn. A few moments after, he re-appeared at the door, and
raised his hat, to their great delight.
In another quarter of an hour, they had rejoined their father in the
large keeping-room of the "Fir Apple," a low apartment, heated by a
large copper furnace, with a sanded floor, and long deal tables running
down the centre of it.
When Materne entered, there was no one there but the innkeeper,
Dubreuil, the fattest and most apoplectic of the publicans of the
Vosges, with a big belly, round, goggle eyes, flat nose, a wart on his
right cheek, and his triple chin falling in folds over his turned-down
collar. With the exception of this curious personage, sitting in a
large leathern arm-chair near the furnace, Materne was alone. He had
just filled the glasses, the old clock was striking nine, and its
wooden cock was flapping its wing with a curious, creaking sound.
"Your health, Father Dubreuil," said the two lads in a rough voice.
"Good day, brave boys, good day!" replied the innkeeper, forcing a
smile. Then, in an oily voice, he demanded, "Is there nothing new?"
"Truly, no," replied Jasper; "this is winter, the time for hunting the
wild boar."
Then, both of them depositing their carbines in the angle of the
window, within reach in case of a surprise, passed a leg across the
bench, and seated themselves opposite their father, who was at the
upper end of the table. At the same time they drank, saying, "To our
health!" which they were always careful to do.
"So, then," said Materne, turning towards the fat man, as if to resume
the course of an interrupted conversation, "you think, Father Dubreuil,
that we shall have nothing to fear in the Baronies, and that we may
quietly continue to hunt the wild boar?"
"Ah! as to that, I can't say anything," exclaimed the innkeeper; "only
at present the Allies have not yet passed Mutzig. And, besides, they
are doing no harm to any one; they receive every one kindly, and with
good will, who will take up arms against the Usurper."
"The Usurper! and who is he?"
"Who? Why, Napoleon Bonaparte is the Usurper, to be sure. Just cast
your eyes on that wall opposite."
He pointed to a large paper placard, posted on the wall, close to the
clock.
"Look at that, and you will see that the Austrians are our true
friends."
Old Materne frowned till his eyebrows met; but immediately repressing
any outward sign of emotion, he merely said, "Ah, bah!"
"Yes, just read that."
"But I do not know how to read, M. Dubreuil, nor my boys either. Just
explain the thing to us yourself."
Then the old innkeeper, leaning his two great red hands on the arms of
his chair, rose, panting and puffing like an ox, and placed himself
before the placard, with his arms akimbo, while, with a pompous tone,
he read a proclamation from the Allied Sovereigns, declaring that they
were making war against Napoleon personally, and not against France;
in consequence of which every one was to remain quiet, and not to
interfere in the matter, under pain of being burnt, pillaged, and shot.
The three hunters heard all this, and regarded each other with a
strange look.
When Dubreuil had finished, he went back to his seat, and said, "You
see now!"
"And where did you get that from?" asked Kasper.
"Why, my lad, it's posted up everywhere."
"Well, we are glad of it," said Materne, laying his hand on the arm of
Frantz, who was rising, with flashing eyes. "You want a light, Frantz?
Here is my match-box."
Frantz sat down again, and the old man placidly resumed--"So our good
friends, the Germans, will not harm anyone?"
"All peaceable persons have nothing to fear; but those miscreants who
rise in rebellion will have everything taken from them, which is but
just, for it is not right that the good should suffer for the wicked.
You yourselves, for instance, instead of harm being done to you, you
would be received with welcome in the service of the allied armies.
You know the country; you would be useful as guides, and you would be
liberally paid."
There was a moment's silence; the three huntsmen looked at each other
again; the father had spread his hands upon the table, quite wide open,
as if to urge his sons to be calm. Yet he himself had turned very pale.
The innkeeper, who saw nothing of all this, continued--"You would,
indeed, have much more to fear in the woods of the Baronies from
those robbers of Dagsburg, La Sarre, and the Blanru, who have risen in
revolt, and would like to renew the struggle of '93."
"Are you quite sure of that?" asked Materne, making a violent effort
over himself.
"Am I sure of it? You need only look out of the window to answer that
question; you will see them on the road from the Donon. They have
surprised the Anabaptist, Pelsly; they have bound him to the foot of
his bed; they are pillaging, stealing, pulling up the roads; but let
them beware. A few days hence they will see some strange things. It is
not with thousands of men that they will be attacked, but with tens of
thousands, with _millions_ of thousands. They will be all hanged!"
Materne rose. "It is time to be thinking of returning," said he, in a
short, dry tone. "By two o'clock we must be back in the woods, where we
can chatter away like magpies. Good day to you, Father Dubreuil."
They went out hastily, no longer able to restrain themselves for rage.
"Reflect well on what I have said to you," the innkeeper called out
after them from his great arm-chair.
Once outside, Materne said, while his lips trembled with fury--"If I
had not left that man, I should have broken the bottle about his head."
"And I," said Frantz, "could hardly help running my bayonet into his
fat paunch."
Kasper, with one foot on the step, seemed longing to return. As he
clutched the handle of his hunting-knife, his countenance wore a
terrible expression. But the old man took him by the arm, and drew him
away, saying:
"Come away; we shall find another time to repay him for all this.
Advise me--me--Materne--to betray my country! Hullin did well to tell
us to be on our guard: he was right."
They then descended the street, casting such angry looks to the
right and left as they passed, that people said inquiringly to each
other--"Why, what can be the matter with them?"
As they reached the end of the village, opposite the Old Cross, quite
close to the Church, they stopped, and Materne, in a calmer tone,
showing them the path that winds round by Phramond, through the woods,
said to his sons:
"You take that road. For my part, I shall follow this as far as
Schirmeck. I shall not go too quickly, to allow you time to come up
with me."
They separated, and the old huntsman in a pensive mood, and with head
bowed down, walked on for a long time, asking himself by what inward
power he had been able to prevent himself from breaking the head of
the fat innkeeper. He answered that it was, no doubt, from the fear of
compromising his sons. All the while musing on these things, Materne
met, from time to time, flocks of oxen, sheep, and goats that were
being driven into the mountains. There were some coming from Wisch,
from Urmatt, and even from Mutzig. The poor beasts seemed ready to drop
with fatigue.
"Where the deuce are you going in such a hurry?" cried the old huntsman
to the dismal-looking shepherds; "have you no confidence, then, in the
proclamation of the Russians and Austrians, you fellows?"
To which these gloomily replied, "Ah! it's all very well for you to
laugh. Proclamations, indeed! We know what they are worth now. We are
pillaged of all, robbed of everything; forced contributions are got out
of us, and our horses, cows, oxen, and even our vehicles carried off."
"Stop! stop! stop! it can't be. What you tell me," said Materne, "quite
bewilders me! What, people so brave, so friendly, the saviours of
France! I can't believe it. Such a handsome proclamation."
"Well, then, come down to Alsace, and you will see. Seeing's believing,
they say."
The poor fellows went on their way, shaking their heads with an air of
profound indignation, while he laughed in his sleeve.
The farther Materne continued his route, the greater grew the number of
the flocks of cattle; not only were there troops of these, lowing and
bleating, but flocks of geese were to be seen as far as the eye could
reach, screaming and cackling, dragging themselves along the ground,
with flapping wings, and feet half-frozen with the cold. It was a
pitiable sight!
As he drew near to Schirmeck, it was much worse still; people were
flying in crowds, with their large vehicles loaded with barrels, smoked
meats, furniture, women, and children, lashing the horses enough to
kill them on the spot, as they kept repeating, in doleful tones: "We
are lost! the Cossacks are coming!"
This cry, "The Cossacks! the Cossacks!" flew from one end of the road
to the other like a whirlwind; women turned round, gaping-mouthed, with
fear and wonder, and children stood upright in the carts and vehicles
to see as far off as they could. Never was anything seen like it; and
Materne felt indignant, and blushed for the terror of these people, who
might have defended themselves, but for their selfishness and desire to
save their property, which drove them to an unworthy flight.
At a branch of the road just by Schirmeck, Kasper and Frantz rejoined
their father; and they all three entered the "Golden Keg" tavern, kept
by the widow Faltaux, to the right of the road.
The poor woman and her two daughters were watching from a window the
great migration, with tearful eyes and clasped hands.
In truth, the tumult increased from second to second. The cattle, the
carriages, and the people, seemed to want to pass out over each other's
backs; they seemed to have gone out of their minds, and were shouting,
and even striking at each other in their mad desire to escape.
Materne pushed open the door, and, seeing the women more dead than
alive, pale and dishevelled, he exclaimed, striking his stick on the
ground--"What! Mother Faltaux! are you, too, out of your senses? What!
you, who ought to set a good example to your daughters, have you lost
all presence of mind; it's too bad!"
Then the old woman, turning round, replied, in a doleful voice--"Ah, my
poor Materne! if you did but know--if you did but know!"
"Well, what? the enemy is here; he will not eat you."
"No, but they are swallowing up everything without mercy. Old Ursule,
of Schlestadt, who arrived here yesterday evening, says that the
Austrians will have nothing but _knoépfe_ and _noudels_, the Russians
_schnaps_, and the Bavarians _sour-krout_. And when they've stuffed
themselves with all that up to their very throats, they keep still
calling out, with their mouths full: '_schokolate! schokolate!_' My
God! my God! how shall we feed all these people?"
"I well know that it is very difficult," replied the old huntsman. "You
can never give a jackdaw enough cheese; but, in the first place, where
are these Cossacks, these Bavarians, and these Austrians? All the way
from Grandfontaine we have not met a single one."
"They are in Alsace, round about Urmatt, and they are coming here."
"Well, in the meanwhile," said Kasper, "be so obliging as to serve us
with a jug of wine; here is a crown piece; you can hide it easier than
your barrels."
One of the girls went down into the cellar, and just at that moment
several other people came in--an almanack-seller from the Strasbourg
side, a waggoner in his smock-frock from Sarrebrück, and two or three
of the inhabitants of Mutzig, of Hirsch, and of Schirmeck, who were
escaping with their flocks and herds, and had hardly strength left to
speak.
They all seated themselves at the same table, facing the window which
commanded a view of the road; wine was brought them, and each one began
to relate all that he knew. One said that the Allies were so numerous
that they were obliged at night time to lie down to rest side by side
in the valley of Hirschenthal, and so full of vermin, that after
their departure the dead leaves walked about all alone in the woods.
Another, that the Cossacks had set fire to a village in Alsace, because
they had been refused candles for dessert after their dinner; that
certain of them, especially the Calmucks, ate soap like cheese, and
bacon-rind like cake; that a great number drank brandy by the pint,
after having taken care to put handfuls of pepper in it; that you must
hide everything from them, for they found everything that came in their
way good to eat and drink. On this, the waggoner related how that,
three days since, a division of the Russian army having passed in the
night under the cannon of Bitsch, it had been obliged to station itself
for more than an hour on the ice in the little village of Rorbach; and
that this whole division had drunk out of a warming-pan which had been
left out by mistake on the window-sill of an old woman of eighty; that
this race of savages broke the ice to bathe, and then went into brick
ovens to dry themselves; in short, that they were afraid of nothing but
corporal _schlague_!
These good people related such singular things to each other--things
which they declared they had seen with their own eyes, or heard from
the best authority--that it was scarcely possible to believe them.
Out of doors, the uproar, the rumbling of carts, the bellowing of
the cattle, the shouts of the drovers, and clamour of the fugitives
in general, continued as loud as ever, and produced the effect of an
immense and universal boom. Towards noon, Materne and his sons were
just going to set off, when a shout, greater and more prolonged than
the others, was heard: "The Cossacks! the Cossacks!"
Then every one rushed out except our mountaineers, who contented
themselves with opening a window and looking out. Everybody fled across
the fields; men, 'ocks, vehicles, all dispersed like leaves before the
winds of autumn.
In less than two minutes the road was clear, except in Schirmeck, where
such uproar and confusion reigned that you could not take four steps
for the crowd.
Materne, looking far down the road, exclaimed, "It's no good my
looking, for I can see nothing."
"Nor I, either," replied Kasper.
"Ah! I see, I see!" pursued the old huntsman, "that the terror of all
these people gives the enemy greater power than they really possess. It
is not thus that we will receive the Cossacks in the mountain, as they
shall find to their cost!"
Then shrugging his shoulders with an expression of contempt: "Fear is a
villanous thing," said he; "for, after all, we have but a poor life to
lose. Come, let us be going."
On quitting the tavern, the old man having taken the road that lay
through the valley to ascend the summit of the Hirschberg, his sons
followed him. They soon reached the outskirts of the wood. Materne then
said that they must climb to the greatest possible height, in order to
discover the plain, and bring back positive news to the camp, for that
all the reports of those fugitives were not worth the testimony of a
single eye-witness.
Kasper and Frantz agreed with him, and they all three began to
scale the side of the mountain, which in this part formed a sort of
promontory overlooking the plain.
When they had reached the summit, they saw distinctly the position of
the enemy, about three leagues off, between Urmatt and Lutzelhouse;
they looked like great black lines upon the snow; farther off were to
be seen some dark masses, no doubt the artillery and the baggage. Other
masses were to be discerned round about the villages, and, in spite of
the distance, the glitter of bayonets announced that a column had just
set out on the march for Visch.
Having contemplated this picture for a long time with a thoughtful eye,
the old man said: "We have down there a good thirty thousand men under
our very eyes. They are advancing on our side; we shall be attacked
to-morrow, or the day after, at the very latest. This will be no
trifling affair, my lads; but if they've the advantage of numbers, we
have in position; and then it's always best to fire on a mass; there's
sure to be no balls lost."
Having made these judicious reflections, he looked up to observe at
what height the sun was, and added: "It is now two o'clock; we know all
we want to know. Let us return to the camp."
The two lads swung their carbines over their shoulders, and leaving
on their left the valley of the Brocque, Schirmeck, and Framont, they
ascended the steep acclivity of the Hengsbach, overlooked at two
leagues' distance by the Little Donon. They re-descended on the other
side without following any footpath through the snow, only tracing
their course over the mountain tops as the shortest way to reach their
journey's end.
They had proceeded thus for about two hours; the winter sun was sinking
in the horizon; night was approaching; night, but bright and calm. They
had now only to descend, and remount, on the other side, the solitary
gorge of the Reil, forming a large circular basin in the midst of the
woods, and enclosing a little dark pool, where the wild roe sometimes
came to slake their thirst.
All at once, as they were striding along, thinking of nothing in
particular, the old man, suddenly stopping behind a curtain of shrubs,
said, "Hush!"
And raising his hand, he pointed to the little lake, then covered
with a thin and transparent coating of ice. His two boys had only to
glance in that direction to witness the strangest sight. About twenty
Cossacks, with rough yellow beards, their heads covered with old
seal-skin caps, shaped like the funnel of a stove, their lean forms
clad in long tatters, their feet in stirrups made of old cords, were
sitting on their little horses with long floating manes, thin tails,
the crupper spotted with yellow, white, and black, like goats. Some
had for sole weapon a long lance, others a sabre, others a hatchet
suspended by a cord to the saddle, and a large holster pistol attached
to their belt. Several, with upturned faces, were looking delightedly
and admiringly at the dark green tops of the fir trees, reaching one
above the other till finally lost in the clouds. One tall, bony fellow
was breaking the ice with the thick end of his lance, while his little
horse drank, with outstretched neck and long mane falling beardwise
down each cheek. Some among them, having alighted, were clearing away
the snow, and pointing to the wood, no doubt to indicate that it was
a good place for encamping. Their comrades, still on horseback, were
talking together, and showing on their right the bottom of the valley,
lying low like a gap as far as the Grinderwald.
In short, it was a halt, and it would be impossible to describe the
strange and picturesque appearance which these beings from far-off
lands, with their bronzed countenances, long beards, black eyes, low
foreheads, flat noses, tattered grey coats, presented on the borders
of that still lake, and under those steep rocks, with their tall
fir-crowned summits reaching to the skies.
It seemed like a glimpse of another and a different world to them,
a species of unknown, curious, and strange game, that the three red
huntsmen began to gaze upon at first with a singular curiosity. But
that over, at the end of five minutes, Kasper and Frantz fixed their
long bayonets at the end of their carbines, then stepped stealthily
about twenty paces backwards into the covert. They reached a rock of
fifteen to twenty feet high, which Materne ascended, being unarmed;
then, after a few words, exchanged in a low voice, Kasper examined his
priming, and slowly took aim, while his brother stood close at hand.
One of the Cossacks, the same who was letting his horse drink, was
about a hundred paces off. As Kasper's shot awoke the deep echoes of
the gorge, the Cossack, rolling over the head of his steed, disappeared
beneath the ice of the lake. It is impossible to describe the stupefied
surprise of his comrades when they heard the shot and witnessed its
effect. They stared about them in every direction as the echo gradually
died away, while a thick puff of smoke appeared above the cluster of
trees where the huntsmen were.
Kasper, in less than a quarter of a minute, had re-loaded his gun; but,
in the same space of time, the Cossacks, who had alighted, leapt upon
their horses, and set off at full speed in the direction of the Hartz,
following one behind the other like roebucks, and shouting wildly,
"Hurrah! hurrah!"
This flight seemed like a vision, for just as Kasper was taking aim
for the second time, the tail of the last horse disappeared among the
bushes.
The horse of the dead Cossack was left alone standing by the water,
held there by a strange circumstance--his master, plunged headlong in
the mud to the waist, had still his foot in the stirrup.
Materne, perched upon his rock, listened and then joyfully exclaimed:
"They are gone! Well, let us go and see. Frantz, remain here; if some
of them should return."
But in spite of this wise counsel, they all three came down to the
horse; Materne immediately seized the bridle, saying, "Well, old
fellow, we'll teach you to speak French."
"Come along, then," exclaimed Kasper.
"No; we must see what we have brought down. Look you, this will
encourage the others; dogs are never well broke in till they have
scented the game."
They then fished the dead Cossack out of the pond, and having thrown
him across the horse, they began to climb the side of the Donon by a
footpath so steep that Materne kept repeating, a hundred times over,
"The horse will never be able to pass this way."
But the horse, lean and agile as a mountain goat, passed more easily
than they, which led the old huntsman to say at length: "These Cossacks
have famous horses. When I grow quite old, I shall keep this one to go
hunting with. We've got a famous horse, boys; he looks like a cow, but
he's got the strength of a dray-horse."
Occasionally, too, he made reflections on the Cossack: "What a droll
face, eh? a round nose, and a forehead like a cheese-box. There are,
for certain, some strange fellows in the world! You took good aim at
him, Kasper; hit him just in the middle of the chest; and see, the ball
has come out at the back. Famous powder; Divès always keeps capital
stuff."
About six o'clock they heard the first challenge of their sentinels:
"Who goes there?"
"France!" replied Materne, advancing.
Everybody ran to meet them, exclaiming, "Here is Materne!"
Hullin himself, as curious as the rest, could not help running up with
Doctor Lorquin. The men were already crowding round the horse, staring
at him in open-mouthed wonder, by the side of a large fire where their
supper was cooking.
"It is a Cossack," said Hullin, pressing the hand of Materne.
"Yes, Jean-Claude; we caught him just by the lake of the Riel: it was
Kasper who shot him."
They placed the corpse near the fire, the bright flickering rays of
which reflected fantastic shadows on his countenance, of a dingy yellow.
Doctor Lorquin, having looked at him, said, "It is a fine specimen
of the Tartar race; if I had time, I would scald him in a bath of
quicklime to procure a skeleton of the tribe." Then, kneeling beside
him, and opening his long grey riding-coat, "The ball has traversed
the pericardium," said he; "which produces very nearly the effect of
aneurism of the heart."
The others were silent.
Kasper stood leaning on his gun, and seemingly quite satisfied with
his game; while old Materne, rubbing his hands, said, "I was sure
I should bring you back something; my boys and I never come back
empty-handed. And there it is!"
Hullin then drawing him apart, they entered the farm together, whilst,
after the first moment of surprise, every one began to make his own
personal reflections on the Cossack.
[Illustration]