On the rock of the Falkenstein, at its very highest point, rises
a round tower hollowed out at its base. This tower, covered with
brambles, white thorns, and myrtles, seems as old as the mountain
itself. Neither French, Germans, nor Swedes have been able to destroy
it. The stone and the cement are united so firmly, that not the least
fragment can be detached. It has a gloomy and mysterious aspect, which
carries you back to bygone times to which the memory of man cannot
reach. At the period of the passage of the wild geese, Marc Divès used
frequently to lie in ambush there when he had nothing better to do, and
sometimes at the fall of day, just as the flocks were arriving through
the mist, and describing a large circuit before retiring to rest, he
would bring down two or three, to the great delight of Hexe-Baizel,
who was always very eager to put them on the spit. Often, too, in the
autumn, Marc would spread his nets among the bushes, into which the
thrushes would drop without even a struggle; so that, in short, the old
tower served him as a sort of storehouse.
How many times had Hexe-Baizel, when the north wind blew hard enough
to tear the horns from off the oxen, and the noise, the cracking of
the branches, and the hoarse groaning of the surrounding forests
ascended on high like the clamour of an angry sea--how many times had
Hexe-Baizel been nearly carried away as far as the Kilbéri opposite?
But she would cling to the bushes with both hands, and the wind but
succeeded in shaking out her red locks.
Divès, having noticed that his wood, from being often covered with snow
and steeped with rain, gave out more smoke than flame, had sheltered
the old tower with a roof made of planks. On this subject the smuggler
had a singular story to relate: He asserted that he had discovered
while fixing the rafters, at the bottom of a fissure, an owl as white
as snow, blind, and feeble, provided in abundance with field-mice
and bats. For this reason he had christened her the _Grandmother of
the Land_, supposing that all the birds came and brought her food on
account of her extreme old age and feebleness.
At the close of this day, the mountaineers placed in observation, like
the dwellers in a vast hotel, on all the ridges of the rock, saw the
white uniforms appear in the neighbouring gorges. They were issuing
in vast masses from all sides at once, which showed clearly their
intention of blockading the Falkenstein. Marc Divès, seeing that, grew
more thoughtful.
"If they surround us," thought he, "we shall no longer be able to
procure provisions; we shall have to surrender or perish with hunger."
They could perfectly distinguish the staff officers of the enemy's
forces, riding leisurely round the fountain in the village of Charmes.
There, too, was one of the great leaders, heavy of body, with a fat
paunch, who was surveying the rock with a long telescope; behind
him stood Yégof, whom the officer turned round from time to time to
question. The women and children formed a circle further off, looking
wonderingly on, and five or six Cossacks were caracoling round. The
smuggler could not restrain himself any longer; he took Hullin aside:
"Look," said he, "at that long file of shakos appearing all along the
Sarre; and on this side too, others who are ascending from the valley
like hares, with long strides; they are _kaiserlicks_, are they not?
Well, what are they going to do there, Jean-Claude?"
"They are going to surround the mountain."
"That is very clear. How many do you think there are?"
"From three to four thousand men."
"Without counting those who are dispersed throughout the country. Well,
what would you have Piorette do against this host of vagabonds, with
his three hundred men? I ask you that plainly, Hullin."
"He can do nothing," replied the brave man, simply. "The Germans know
that our ammunition is at the Falkenstein; they fear a rising after
their entry into Lorraine, and wish to protect their rear. Their
general has discovered that he cannot subdue us by main force; he has
resolved to reduce us by famine. All that, Marc, is positive, but we
are men, we will do our duty; we will die here!"
There was a moment's silence; Marc Divès knit his brow, and did not
seem at all convinced.
"We will die!" he exclaimed, scratching the back of his head. "For my
part, I don't at all see why we should die; that does not enter into my
ideas, there are too many people who would be delighted at it!"
"What would you do, then?" said Hullin, in a dry tone--"would you
surrender?"
"I surrender!" exclaimed the smuggler. "Do you take me for a coward?"
"Then explain yourself."
"This evening I set out for Phalsbourg: I risk my skin by crossing the
enemy's lines, but I like that better than to cross my arms here and
perish by famine. I shall either enter the place at the first sortie or
endeavour to gain an outpost. The Governor, Meunier, knows me. I have
sold him tobacco for the last three years. Like you, he has served in
the campaigns of Italy and Egypt. Well, I shall lay the case before
him. I shall see Gaspard Lefévre. I will do so much that they will
perhaps give us a company. We want nothing but the uniform, do you see,
Jean-Claude, and we are saved. All that are left of our brave fellows
will join Piorette, and, in any case, we may be relieved. In short,
that is my idea; what do you think of it?"
He looked at Hullin, whose fixed and gloomy eye disturbed him.
"Come, is there not a chance?"
"It is an idea," said Jean-Claude at length. "I do not oppose it."
And, in his turn, looking the smuggler straight in the face:
"You swear to me to do your utmost to gain entrance to the place?"
"I swear nothing at all," replied Marc, whose brown cheeks were
suffused with a sudden red. "I leave here all that I have: my property,
my wife, my comrades, Catherine Lefévre, and yourself--my oldest
friend. If I do not return, I shall be a traitor; but, if I do return,
Jean-Claude, you shall give me a little explanation of the question
you have just put to me: we have a little account to settle together!"
"Marc," said Hullin, "forgive me; I have suffered too much these last
few days! I have been wrong; misfortune makes me mistrustful. Give me
your hand! Go, save us, save Catherine, save my child! I say this to
you now; we have no resource but in you."
Hullin's voice trembled: Divès allowed himself to be moved by it; only
he added:
"For all that, Jean-Claude, you should not have spoken so to me at such
a moment; let us never speak of it again! I will leave my skin by the
way, or else return to deliver you; this very evening at night time, I
will set forth! The _kaiserlicks_ are already encircling the mountain;
no matter, I have a good horse, and, besides, I've always been lucky."
By six o'clock the loftiest of the mountain tops were wrapped in
darkness. Hundreds of fires sparkling at the bottom of the gorges
announced that the Germans were preparing their evening meal. Marc
Divès descended the footpath on tiptoe. Hullin listened a few
seconds longer to the sound of his comrade's footsteps; then he
directed his own, in a meditative mood, towards the old tower where
the head-quarters had been established. He raised the thick woollen
covering which shut in the owl's nest, and saw Catherine, Louise, and
the others crouching round a little fire which threw its feeble light
upon the grey walls. The old farm-mistress, seated on a block of oak,
with her hands clasped round her knees, was watching the flame with
fixed eye, compressed lips, and livid complexion; Louise, leaning with
her back against the wall, seemed absorbed in a dream; Jerôme, standing
behind Catherine, with his hands crossed upon his stick, touched with
his thick otter-skin cap the rotten roof. All were sad and dispirited.
Hexe-Baizel, who was lifting up the lid of a saucepan, and Doctor
Lorquin, who was scraping the mortar of the old wall with the point of
his sword, alone preserved their wonted aspect.
"Here we are," said the doctor, "come back to the time of the
Triboques. These walls are more than two thousand years old. A good
quantity of water must have flowed from the heights of the Falkenstein
and the Grosmann, by the Sarre to the Rhine, since a fire was lit in
this tower."
"Yes," replied Catherine, like one awaking from a dream; "and many
others beside us have suffered here cold, hunger, and poverty. Who
has known of it? No one. And in a hundred, two hundred, three hundred
years, others, perhaps, will come again to seek shelter in this same
place. They will find, like us, the cold wall, the damp earth. They
will make a little fire. They will look round as we do. And they will
say, like us: 'Who has suffered before us here? Why have they suffered?
They were then pursued, hunted, as we are, to come and hide themselves
in this miserable hole.' And they will think of times past, and none
will be able to reply to them!"
Jean-Claude had approached. In a few seconds, the old farm-mistress,
raising her head, began to say, as she regarded him:
"Well! We are surrounded--the enemy wants to reduce us by famine!"
"It is true, Catherine," replied Hullin. "I did not expect that. I
reckoned on an attack by main force; but the _kaiserlicks_ are not
yet quite as far advanced as they think. Divès has just set out for
Phalsbourg; he is acquainted with the governor of the place. And if
they will send only a few hundred men to our succour----"
"We must not count upon it," interrupted the old woman. "Marc may be
taken or killed by the Germans. And then, even suppose that he succeeds
in crossing their lines, how will he be able to enter Phalsbourg? You
know well that the place is besieged by the Russians!"
Then every one became silent.
Hexe-Baizel soon after brought the soup, and they made a circle round
the steaming bowl.
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