The mountaineers were almost beside themselves with joy at their
victory; they wrung each other's hands, lauded each other to the skies,
and looked upon themselves as the most renowned of heroes.
Catherine, Louise, Doctor Lorquin, every one had gone out of the farm,
shouting, congratulating themselves, looking at the traces of the
balls, the mounds blackened by the powder; then at Joseph Larnette,
with his fractured skull, lying extended in his trench; Baumgarten,
with his arm hanging helpless by his side, on his way to the hospital,
looking as pale as death; and Daniel Spitz, who, in spite of his
sword-cut, wanted to stay and go on fighting; but the doctor would not
listen to this, and forced him to return to the farm.
Louise came with the little cart and distributed brandy to the
combatants; and Catherine Lefévre, on the edge of the ascent, stood
looking upon the dead and wounded lying thickly scattered along the
road, which was tracked with their blood. There they lay, poor fellows,
young and old, all heaped indiscriminately together, with faces as
white as wax, eyes staring wide open, and outstretched arms. Some few
tried to rise, and instantly fell heavily back; others were looking
upwards, as if they were still afraid of being shot at; while some
again were dragging themselves slowly along to get under shelter from
the balls.
Several seemed resigned to their fate, and only seeking a quiet place
to die in, or else straining their eyes after their regiment returning
to Framont; that regiment, with which they had quitted their native
village, with which they had first made a long campaign, and which was
now abandoning them to die!
"Our comrades will see old Germany again," thought they; "and when
the captain or the sergeant is asked, 'Did you know such a one:
Hans, Kasper, Nickel of the 1st or 2nd company?' they will answer,
'Stay--it's very likely--had he not a scar on the ear, or on the cheek?
Fair or brown hair, five or six feet in height? Yes, I know him. He
is left in France, by the side of a little village whose name I don't
remember. The mountaineers massacred him on the same day as the big
major Yéri Peter; he was a brave lad. And so good night.'"
Perhaps, among the number, there might have been one who thought of
his mother; of a pretty girl in his own country, Gretchen or Lotchen,
who had given him a riband while crying her eyes out as he was setting
off--"I shall wait for your coming back, Kasper; I shall never marry
any one but you!" Ah, my poor lass, you will have to wait a long while!
It was not a pleasant sight to look upon, and as Dame Lefévre beheld
it, she thought of her own Gaspard.
Hullin, who had just arrived with Lagarmitte, called out, in a jovial
tone:
"Well, my lads, you have smelt powder; a thousand thunders! This will
do. The Germans have nothing to boast of in this day's work."
Then he embraced Louise, and ran to Dame Lefévre.
"Are you contented, Catherine? Things are going well with us. But
what's the matter? I see no smile on your face."
"Yes, Jean-Claude, everything is going as well as can be. I am
contented; but just look down on the road there! What frightful
slaughter!"
"It is war," was Hullin's grave reply.
"Is there no way of bringing up here that boy who is looking at us with
his large blue eyes? It wrings my heart to see him; or that tall, dark
one, who is binding up his leg with his handkerchief?"
"Impossible, Catherine; it grieves me, too; but we should have to cut
steps in the ice to descend to them, and then the Germans, who will be
sure to be back in an hour or two, would follow us by them. Come away.
We must announce the victory to all the villages round; to Labarbe, to
Jerôme, to Piorette. Here, Simon, Niklo, Marchal, come here; you must
set off at once to carry the great news to our comrades. Materne, you
keep a sharp look-out, and at the slightest movement, let me know."
As they drew near the farm, Jean-Claude saw the reserve body, with
Marc Divès on horseback in the midst of his men. The smuggler was
complaining bitterly of having been left, as he called it, to fold his
arms and do nothing. He looked upon himself as dishonoured, for having
borne no part in the late fray.
"Bah!" said Hullin, "so much the better; and besides, you are
protecting us on our right. Just look down below there. If we are
attacked in that direction, you shall march to the defence."
Divès said nothing; his face wore an expression at once sad and
indignant; and his tall followers, wrapped in their cloaks, with their
long rapiers suspended outside, did not seem to be in a bit better
humour: they looked as if they were plotting vengeance.
Hullin, not being able to console them, entered the farm. Doctor
Lorquin was just beginning the operation of extracting the ball from
the wound of Baumgarten, who was groaning fearfully.
Pelsly, standing on the threshold of his house, was trembling from head
to foot. Jean-Claude begged him to supply him with paper and ink, in
order that he might despatch his orders throughout the mountain-side;
but it was with difficulty that the poor Anabaptist could comply with
his request, so great was his agitation.
He managed it, however, at last, and messengers set off in all
directions, quite proud of being deputed to announce the first battle
and the victory.
A few mountaineers, who had come into the large room, were warming
themselves by the stove, and talking in an excited manner. Daniel
Spitz had already undergone the amputation of his two fingers, and was
sitting behind the stove, with his hand bound up in linen.
Those who had been posted behind the barricades before daybreak, not
having breakfasted, were then getting a crust and a mug of wine,
shouting, gesticulating, and bragging with their mouths full. Some
were going out to cast a look upon the trenches, others coming back to
warm themselves, and everybody, in speaking of Riffi, and his dismal
lamentations on horseback, and his plaintive cries and entreaties,
laughed till their sides ached.
It was eleven o'clock. These comings and goings lasted till noon, the
moment when Marc Divès suddenly entered, exclaiming, "Hullin! where is
Hullin?"
"Here I am."
There was something strange in the tone of the smuggler's voice; just
before furious at not having taken his part in the struggle, he seemed
triumphant. Jean-Claude followed him, greatly alarmed, and the large
room was cleared in an instant, for every one was convinced, by Marc's
excited manner, that something serious had happened.
To the right of the Donon extends the ravine of the Minières, where
rages a torrent when the snow begins to melt: it descends from the top
of the mountain to the bottom of the valley.
Just opposite the plateau defended by the mountaineers, and on the
other side of the ravine, at a distance of five or six hundred yards,
is a sort of uncovered terrace, with a very steep descent, which Hullin
had not judged necessary to occupy provisionally, not wishing to divide
his forces; and seeing, besides, that it would be easy for him to
strengthen this position by means of fir trees, and defend it in the
event of the enemy showing signs of attacking it.
Judge, then, of the consternation of the brave man, when, on reaching
the threshold of the farm, he saw two companies of Germans climbing up
by this side, in the middle of the Gardens of Grandfontaine, with two
field-pieces drawn on heavy carriages, and seemingly suspended over the
precipice. All were pushing hard at the wheels, and in a few moments
more the cannons would reach the platform. It was like a thunderbolt
to Jean-Claude; he turned pale, and then went in a fearful rage with
Divès. "Could you not have warned me sooner?" he roared. "Did I not bid
you, above all things, to keep a good look-out on the ravine? We are
surprised; they will take us in flank; cut off the road. Everything is
gone to the devil!"
The spectators, and old Materne himself, who had just run to the spot
in the utmost haste, trembled at the glance he threw upon the smuggler.
The latter, in spite of his wonted boldness, stood speechless and
chapfallen, not knowing what answer to make. "Come, come, Jean-Claude,"
said he, at length; "be calm; it is not as bad as you think. We've not
had our turn yet, we fellows. And then, we're in want of cannon; it's
just the very thing for us."
"Yes, just the very thing indeed, you great fool! It was your vanity
that made you wait till the last moment, wasn't it? You wanted to
fight, to be able to swagger and boast; and, to gain your ends, you
risk the lives of us all. See! look! there are others already preparing
to set out from Framont."
True enough, another column, much stronger than the first, was then
leaving Framont, and advancing, at the double, towards the defences.
Divès said not a word. Hullin, governing his anger, grew suddenly calm
in the presence of such imminent danger.
"Go back to your posts," said he to the spectators, in a sharp voice;
"let every one be ready for the attack which is preparing. Materne,
attention!"
The old huntsman bowed.
Meanwhile, Marc Divès had recovered his self-possession. "Instead of
brawling like a woman," said he, "you would do better to give me the
order to begin the attack down below there by defending the ravine by
the fir-trees."
"It must be so--a thousand thunders!" replied Jean-Claude. And then, in
a calmer tone; "Listen, Marc; I'm in a furious rage with you. We were
conquerors, and through your fault we've lost all our ground. If you
miss your blow, we'll cut our throats together."
"Agreed. The affair is settled; I'll answer for the consequences."
Then, leaping on to his horse, and throwing the skirt of his cloak
over his shoulder, he drew his long rapier with a haughty and defiant
air. His men followed his example closely. Then Divès, turning towards
the reserve, composed of fifty stalwart mountaineers, pointed to the
platform with the point of his sword, and said: "You see that, my lads;
we want that position. The men of Dagsburg must never be able to say
that they showed more pluck than those of the Sarre. Forward!"
And the troops, full of martial ardour, set out on their march along
the edge of the ravine. Hullin, pale with excitement, shouted, "Fix
bayonets!"
The tall smuggler, on his immense brown horse, with muscular and
shining croup, turned round, while a smile curled his lip under his
thick moustaches; he poised his rapier with a look full of meaning, and
the whole troop plunged into the thick fir forest. At the same moment,
the Germans, with their eight-pounders, attained the height and began
to place their battery, whilst the column from Framont was scaling the
side. All was, therefore, in the same position as before the battle;
with this difference, that the enemy's cannon-balls were going to be
concerned in the affray, and take the mountaineers from behind.
The two field-pieces were distinctly visible, with their cramp-irons,
levers, drags, artillerymen, and commanding officer, a tall, bony,
broad-shouldered man, with long, light, waving moustaches. The azure
vault of the valley brought far-off things so near, that you might have
thought him within arm's length; but Hullin and Materne knew better;
there were a good six hundred yards between them; no gun could reach as
far as that.
Nevertheless, the old huntsman, before returning to the barricades,
wished to have a clear conscience. So he advanced as near as possible
to the ravine, followed by his son Kasper and a few mountaineers, and
leaning against a tree, he slowly took aim at the tall officer with
light moustaches.
All those who saw him held their breath, for fear of disturbing him,
and marring his aim.
The shot winged its way through the air, and when Materne leaned the
butt-end of his gun upon the ground to see what had happened, no change
had taken place. "It is astonishing how age dims the sight," said he.
"You! your sight dimmed!" exclaimed Kasper; "there is not one, from the
Vosges to Switzerland, who can boast of sending a ball, at two hundred
yards, as well as you!"
The old forester knew it well, but he did not want to discourage the
others. "Perhaps so," he replied; "we have no time to discuss that now.
Here comes the enemy; let each man do his duty."
In spite of these words, Materne, to all appearance simple and calm,
inwardly felt great anxiety. As he entered the trench, confused sounds
reached his ear; the clashing of arms, the regular tramp of footsteps:
he looked down over the side of the ascent, and beheld the Germans,
this time coming with long ladders, furnished with grappling-irons.
This was a disagreeable sight for the old huntsman. He signed to his
son to approach him, and whispered to him: "Kasper, this is bad, this
is very bad; the beggars have brought scaling-ladders with them. Give
me your hand. I would wish to have you near me, and Frantz also; but we
will defend our lives as best we may. If we come off with whole skins,
so much the better."
At this moment a terrible shock shook all the barricades to their
foundations; a hoarse voice was heard to exclaim, "Oh! my God!"
Then a heavy sound not a hundred paces off. A fir-tree bent slowly
forward, and fell right down into the abyss below.
It was the first cannon-shot: it had carried away with it both the
legs of old Rochart. This shot was followed almost at the same moment
by another, which came crashing along, covering in its headlong course
all the mountaineers with splinters of ice; Old Materne himself
bent beneath the force of this terrific explosion, but immediately
recovering himself, he shouted: "Let us avenge ourselves, lads! They
are here! Let us conquer or die!"
Fortunately, the panic of the mountaineers lasted but a second;
they all felt that a moment's hesitation, and they were lost. Two
scaling-ladders were already having their grappling-irons fixed to
the side of the mountain in spite of the heavy fire poured on the
assailants. This sight brought every one to the trench, and the combat
was renewed more fiercely--more desperately than at the first attack.
Hullin had remarked the ladders before Materne, and his indignation
against Divès was increased by the sight; but as, in such a case,
indignation is of no earthly use whatever, he had despatched Lagarmitte
to desire Frantz Materne, who was posted on the other side of the
Donon, to come to him with all haste with half of his men. I leave you
to imagine whether the brave lad, forewarned of the danger his father
was running, lost a second in obeying the order. Already the broad felt
hats were seen ascending the mountain's side through the snow, the men
with their carbines slung over their shoulders. They were running as
fast as they could, and yet Jean-Claude, hastening to meet them, with
the large drops of sweat standing on his forehead, and his eye wild and
haggard, shouted to them, in a ringing voice: "Come on, there, quicker!
you will never get here at that rate."
He was actually trembling with rage, attributing the whole misfortune
to the smuggler.
In the meanwhile, Mark Divès, at the end of about half an hour, had
made the round of the ravine, and from the back of his tall horse was
just beginning to discover the two companies of Germans with grounded
arms, a hundred paces behind the guns, which were firing on the
entrenchments. Then, approaching the mountaineers, he said to them,
in a stifled voice, while the explosions of the cannon were awakening
every echo in the gorge, and in the distance the clamours of the
assault resounded: "Comrades, you will charge the infantry with fixed
bayonets; I and my men will undertake the rest. Is that understood?"
"Yes, that's understood."
"Well, then, forward!"
The whole body advanced in good order towards the outskirts of the
wood, with the tall Piercy of Soldatenthal at their head. Nearly at the
same instant there was the "_verda_" (challenge) of a sentinel; then
two shots; then a great shout, "Hurrah for France!" and the heavy dull
sound of rushing footsteps; the brave mountaineers were falling upon
the enemy like a troop of wolves!
Divès, standing upright in his stirrups, with his long nose and
bristling moustaches, was laughingly looking on:
"It's all right," he kept saying to himself.
It was a fearful conflict; the ground trembled under it. The Germans
were not, any more than the confederates, opening fire; all was
passing in silence; the clashing of bayonets, the heavy thud of the
musket-stocks, intermingled from time to time by a shot, cries of rage,
groans, tumult; nothing else was heard.
The smugglers, with outstretched necks, sword in hand, sniffed the
carnage, impatiently awaiting the signal from their leader.
"Now it is our turn," said Marc. "The cannon be our prize!"
And forth from the woody fastnesses, with their long cloaks floating
behind them like wings, leaning eagerly forward on their saddles, and
their swords poised, onward they came, rushing like the wind.
"Don't cut--stab, stab," said Marc.
And this was every word he uttered.
In a second the twelve vultures had swooped down upon the guns. There
were among the number four old Spanish dragoons, and two ex-cuirassiers
of the Guard, whom the taste for danger attached to Marc. Blows from
every imaginable weapon that the artillerymen had at hand, rained round
them as thick as hail. They were all parried beforehand, and every
stroke brought a man down.
Marc Divès met the fire of two pistols full in his face; one of the
shots blackened his left cheek, and the other carried away his hat. He,
bending over his saddle, with his long arm outstretched, pinned at the
same moment the tall officer with light moustaches to one of the guns.
To conceive the effect of this terrible scene, we must picture to
ourselves the deadly conflict on the heights of the Minières; the
groans of the dying, the neighing of the horses, the cries of rage, the
flight of some, casting away their weapons to run more quickly, the
savage ardour of others.
Marc Divès was not of a contemplative turn: he did not waste time in
making poetical reflections on the tumult and senseless fury of the
wars men wage with each other. He saw the situation at a glance, and
leaping from his horse, flung himself upon the first cannon, still
loaded, seized the levers of the gun-carriage to change its direction,
levelled it at the foot of the ladders, and, snatching a match which
was smoking on the ground, fired.
Then at a distance arose strange clamours, and the smuggler, through
the smoke, saw a bloody gap in the enemy's ranks.
"Now on, boys," said he to his men, "we must not sleep upon it. A
cartridge here; a ball, some turf: we'll sweep the road. Look out!"
The smugglers took up their position; and the fire was kept up upon
the white uniforms with untiring zeal. Volleys of bullets whizzed
through their ranks. At the tenth discharge there was a general rout.
About six hundred men perished on that day. There were mountaineers,
and there were _Kaiserlicks_ in far greater numbers; but had it not
been for the cannonade of Divès all would have been lost.
[Illustration]