Catherine Lefévre went out of the old cavern about seven o'clock in
the morning; Louise and Hexe-Baizel were still asleep; but broad
daylight, the splendid daylight of the upper regions, was already
streaming through every abyss. At the bottom, through the bright azure,
were outlined the woods, the valleys, and the rocks as clearly as the
mosses and pebbles of a lake beneath its crystal waters. Not a breath
disturbed the air; and Catherine, in presence of this spectacle of
boundless nature, felt herself calmer, more tranquil than even in sleep.
"What," said she, to herself, "are our petty troubles of a day, our
trials and vexations? Why weary Heaven with our murmurs? Why dread
the future? All this only lasts but for a second. Our complaints are
of no more account than the cry of the grasshopper in autumn: do its
cries prevent winter from coming? Must not the times and seasons be
accomplished, and all die to be born again? We have been dead before
and have returned again; we shall die again, and again return. And the
mountains, with their forests, their rocks, and their ruins, will be
ever there to say to us: 'Remember! Remember! Thou hast seen me; behold
me again; and thou shalt see me again from generation to generation!'"
Thus mused the old woman, and the future no longer made her afraid;
thoughts for her were only memories.
And while she was standing there for a few moments, all of a sudden a
hum of voices struck upon her ear; she turned, and saw Hullin with the
three smugglers, who were conversing gravely together on the other side
of the plateau. They had not perceived her, and seemed engaged in a
serious discussion.
Old Brenn, standing on the edge of the rock, with the blackened
stump of a pipe between his teeth, his cheek wrinkled like an old
cabbage-leaf, his round nose, gray moustache, flabby eyelid drooping
over his blood-shot eye, and the long sleeves of his gaberdine falling
by his side, was looking at the different points which Hullin was
showing him on the mountain; and the two others, wrapped in their long
gray cloaks, were pacing to and fro, shading their brows with their
hands, and seeming absorbed in profound attention.
Catherine drew near, and soon she heard:
"Then you do not believe it will be possible to descend on either side?"
"No, Jean-Claude, there is no way," replied Brenn, "those brigands know
the country, every inch of it; all the paths are guarded. See, look at
the deer pasture all along that pond; the preventive officers never
had a thought of even noticing it; well, the Allies are defending it.
And, below there, the passage of the Rothstein, a regular goat-walk,
which you never pass above once in ten years--you can see the glitter
of a bayonet behind the rock, can you not? And that other here, where I
have carried on my little game for eight years without ever meeting a
gendarme--they are holding that too. The very devil himself must have
shown them the defiles."
"Yes!" exclaimed the tall Toubac, "and if it is not the devil who has
put his foot in it, it must, at least, be Yégof."
"But," replied Hullin, "it seems to me as if three or four firm
determined men might carry one of those outposts."
"No, they are supported one by the other; at the first report of a gun,
you would have a regiment upon your back," replied Brenn. "Besides,
supposing we should have a chance of passing, how should we return with
provisions? For my part, this is my opinion: The thing is impossible!"
There was a silence of some moments.
"But still," said Toubac, "if Hullin wishes it, we will try, all the
same."
"We will try what?" said Brenn, "to break our backs in trying to escape
ourselves, and leave the others in the net. It's all the same to me;
if the rest go--I go! But as to saying that we shall return with
provisions, I maintain that it's impossible. Let us see, Toubac, by
which way would you pass, and by which way would you return? It's no
use in this case promising; you must perform. If you know a passage,
tell it me. For twenty years I have beaten the mountain with Marc, and
I know every road, every path within ten leagues from here, and I do
not see any other passage than in heaven!"
Hullin turned round at this moment and saw Dame Lefévre, who was
standing a few paces off, and listening attentively.
"What! were you there, Catherine?" said he. "Our affairs are beginning
to take a bad turn."
"Yes, I understand: there are no means of renewing our provisions."
"Our provisions," said Brenn, with a strange smile. "Do you know, Dame
Lefévre, for how long we have enough?"
"Why, for a fortnight," replied the brave woman.
"We have enough for a week," said the smuggler, emptying the ashes of
his pipe upon his nail.
"It is the truth," said Hullin; "Marc Divès and I believed in an
attack on the Falkenstein; we never thought the enemy would dream of
beleaguering it like a fortified place. We have been mistaken!"
"And what are we going to do?" asked Catherine, turning quite pale.
"We are going to reduce every one's rations to half. If in a fortnight
Marc does not arrive, we shall have nothing more--and then we shall
see!"
So saying, Hullin, Catherine, and the smugglers, with heads bowed down,
took their way back by the gap. They had just set foot on the descent,
when at thirty paces above them appeared Materne, who was scrambling,
quite out of breath, through the ruins, and clinging to the bushes to
get along quicker.
"Well," exclaimed Jean-Claude, "what's going on, old fellow?"
"Ah! there you are--I was looking for you. An officer from the enemy's
camp is advancing along the wall of the old _burg_, with a little white
flag; he seems as if he wishes to speak with us."
Hullin, immediately continuing his way towards the declivity of the
rock, saw, in effect, a German officer standing on the wall, and who
seemed to be waiting till they made a sign to him to ascend. He was
within two gun-shots; farther off were stationed five or six soldiers,
with grounded arms. After having inspected this group, Jean-Claude
turned and said:
"It is an officer, who comes, no doubt, to summon us to surrender the
place."
"Let them send a shot at him!" exclaimed Catherine; "it's the best
answer we can make him."
All the others appeared of the same opinion, except Hullin, who,
without making any observation, descended to the terrace, where the
rest of the volunteers were.
"My children," said he, "the enemy sends us an envoy. We do not know
what they want of us. I suppose it is a summons to lay down our arms,
but it is possible it may be something else. Frantz and Kasper will go
to meet him; they will bandage his eyes at the foot of the rock, and
lead him here."
No one having any objection to make, the sons of Materne slung their
carbines over their shoulders, and withdrew beneath the winding
archway. At the end of about ten minutes the two tall red hunters came
up to the officer. There was a rapid conference between them, after
which they all began to ascend the Falkenstein. As the little group
came gradually nearer, they were better able to distinguish the uniform
of the envoy, and even his physiognomy. He was a spare man, with rather
light hair, a well-formed figure, and resolute movements. At the foot
of the rock, Frantz and Kasper bandaged his eyes, and in a short time
their footsteps were heard beneath the vault. Jean-Claude going
himself to meet them, untied the handkerchief, saying:
"You desire to communicate something to me, sir; I am ready to listen
to you."
Tho mountaineers were about fifteen paces from this group. Catherine
Lefévre, who was the foremost, was knitting her brows. Her bony figure,
her long and hooked nose, the three or four locks of her gray hair
straggling over her flat temples, and the bones of her hollow cheeks,
the compression of her lips, and the fixity of her look, seemed at
first to attract the attention of the German officer; then the gentle
and pale face of Louise behind her; then Jerôme, with his long sandy
beard, draped in his tunic of coarse cloth; then old Materne, leaning
upon his short carbine; then the others; and, finally, the high red
vault, the colossal masses of which, built up of flint and granite,
hung over the precipice with some withered brambles. Hexe-Baizel,
behind Materne, her long besom of green broom in her hand, outstretched
neck, and heel on the very edge of the rock, seemed to astonish him for
a second.
He himself was the object of marked attention. You recognised in his
attitude, in his long face, with its sharp outline and brown skin, in
his clear grey eyes, in his slender moustache, in the delicacy of his
limbs hardened by the toils of war, the marks of an aristocratic race.
He had about him a mixture of the old campaigner and the man of the
world--the swordsman and the diplomatist.
This reciprocal inspection terminating in the twinkling of an eye, the
envoy said, in good French--
"Is it to Commander Hullin that I have the honour to address myself?"
"Yes, sir," replied Jean-Claude; and as the other was casting an
undecided look around the circle: "Speak out, sir," he exclaimed,
"that every one may hear you! When the question is one of honour and
country there is no one in France that may not hear what we have to
say--the women are as much concerned in the affair as we are. You have
propositions to make to me; and, in the first place, on the part of
whom?"
"On the part of the General commanding-in-chief. Here is my commission."
"Good! We will hear you, sir."
Then the officer, raising his voice, said in a firm tone:
"Permit me first, Commander, to tell you that you have magnificently
fulfilled your duty. You have compelled the esteem of your enemies."
"In the matter of duty," replied Hullin, "there is neither more nor
less; we have done our best."
"Yes," added Catherine, drily; "and since our enemies esteem us on
account of that, well, they will esteem us still more in a week or a
fortnight--for we are not at the end of the strife. We shall see some
more of it."
The officer turned his head, and stood like one stupefied at the savage
energy imprinted in the looks of the old woman.
"These are noble sentiments," he replied, after a moment's silence;
"but humanity has its rights, and to shed blood wantonly is to render
evil for evil."
"Then, why do you come into our country?" cried Catherine, in her sharp
eagle's voice. "Quit it, and we will leave you in peace!" Then she
added: "You make war like robbers; you steal, you plunder, you burn!
You deserve all to be hung. You ought to be thrown from that rock as an
example!"
The officer turned pale, for the old woman appeared to him quite
capable of executing her threat; he, however, recovered himself almost
immediately, and replied, in a calm tone:
"I know that the Cossacks have set fire to the farm which is to be
seen opposite this rock--they are ruffians, such as are to be found in
the train of every army--but this solitary act proves nothing against
the discipline of our troops. Your French soldiers did many such
things in Germany, and particularly in the Tyrol; not content with
plundering and setting fire to the villages, they mercilessly shot
down every mountaineer suspected of having taken up arms in defence of
his country. We might make reprisals; it would only be our right, but
we are not savages; we can appreciate all that is great and noble in
patriotism, even in its most unfortunate inspirations. Moreover, it is
not against the French people that we are making war; it is against
the Emperor Napoleon. Besides, the General, on hearing of the conduct
of the Cossacks, has publicly denounced this act of vandalism, and,
in addition, has decided that an indemnity should be granted to the
proprietor of the farm."
"I want nothing from you," sharply interrupted Catherine; "I prefer to
be left with my injustice--and to avenge myself!"
The envoy saw by the old woman's tone that he could not make her listen
to reason, and that it was even dangerous to make her a reply. So he
turned towards Hullin, and said:
"I am commissioned, Commander, to offer you the honours of war, if
you surrender this position. You have no provisions--we know it. In a
few days, at latest, you will be compelled to lay down your arms. The
esteem the General-in-Chief feels for you has alone decided him to
propose to you these honourable conditions. A longer resistance would
lead to no good. We are masters of the Donon; the body of our army has
passed into Lorraine; it is not here the campaign will be decided--you
have, therefore, no interest in defending a useless position. We wish
to spare you the horrors of famine upon this rock. Come, Commander,
decide!"
Hullin turned to his followers, and said to them simply: "You have
heard? For my part, I refuse but I will submit if every one else
accepts the proposition of the enemy?"
"We all refuse!" said Jerôme.
"Yes--yes, all!" repeated the others.
Catherine Lefévre, hitherto inflexible, happening to look at Louise,
seemed touched; she took her by the arm, and turning to the envoy, she
said:
"We have a child with us; would there be no means of sending her to one
of our relations at Saverne?"
No sooner had Louise heard these words, than throwing herself into
Hullin's arms, with a sort of terror, she exclaimed:
"No--no! I will stay with you, Papa Jean-Claude. I will die with you!"
"'Tis well, sir," said Hullin, quite pale; "go tell your General what
you have seen; tell him that the Falkenstein will remain with us till
death! Kasper, Frantz, lead back the envoy."
The officer seemed to hesitate; but as he was opening his mouth to
speak, Catherine, quite livid with rage, exclaimed:
"Go--go! You are not yet where you think. It is that brigand of a Yégof
who has told you that we had no provisions, but we have enough for two
months; and in two months our army will have exterminated you all. The
traitors will not always have it their own way. Woe be to you!"
And, as she was getting more and more excited, the officer judged it
prudent to retire. He turned towards his guides, who replaced the
bandage, and conducted him to the foot of the Falkenstein.
That which Hullin had ordered on the subject of the provisions was
executed on that very day; each one received his half-ration for the
day. A sentinel was placed before the cavern of Hexe-Baizel, where the
provisions were kept; the entrance was barricaded, and Jean-Claude
decided that the distributions should be made in the presence of all,
in order to prevent injustice. But all these precautions could not
preserve these unfortunate creatures from the horrors of famine.
For three days provisions had completely failed at the Falkenstein,
and Divès had not given signs of life. How many times, during these
long days of agony, had the mountaineers turned their eyes towards
Phalsbourg! how many times had they listened, thinking they heard the
steps of the smuggler, whilst the vague murmur of the air alone filled
space!
It was amid the tortures of hunger that the whole of the nineteenth day
since the arrival of the confederates at the Falkenstein was passed.
They spoke no more; crouched on the ground, with pinched faces, they
remained lost in an endless reverie. At times they looked at each other
with flashing eye, as if ready to devour each other; then they grew
calm and gloomy again.
When Yégof's raven, flying from peak to peak, was seen approaching
this scene of misfortune, old Materne shouldered his carbine; but
immediately the bird of ill-omen would take flight at its utmost speed,
uttering dismal croakings; and the arm of the old hunter fell powerless.
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