ROUND THE WATCHFIRES
That night, which was on a Friday, the anabaptist's little farm-house
never ceased for an instant to be filled with people coming in and
going out.
Hullin had established his head-quarters in the large room on the
ground floor, to the right of the barn, facing Framont: on the other
side of the passage was the ambulance: the upper part was inhabited by
the farm people.
Although the night was very still and the stars were shining in
myriads, the cold was so intense that there was nearly an inch of ice
on the panes.
Outside, one could hear the challenge of the sentinel, the passing of
the patrols, and, on the surrounding peaks, the howling of the wolves,
who followed our armies in hundreds since 1812. These wild beasts
crouched on the ice, their sharp muzzles between their paws, with
hunger at their entrails, calling each other, from the Grosmann to the
Donon, with moaning sounds like that of the north wind.
It made more than one mountaineer grow pale.
"It is Death who calls," thought they; "he scents the battle, he
summons us!"
The oxen lowed in the stables, and the horses gave frightful neighs.
About thirty fires blazed on the plateau; all the anabaptist's wood was
taken; fagots were heaped one upon another. Their faces were scorched,
and their backs frozen; they warmed their backs, and the ice hung from
their mustaches.
Hullin, alone, before the great pinewood table, was taking thought for
all. According to the latest tidings of the evening, announcing the
arrival of the Cossacks at Framont, he was convinced that the first
attack would take place the next day. He had distributed cartridges,
doubled the sentries, appointed patrols, and marked all the posts along
the outworks. Every one knew beforehand what place he was to occupy.
Hullin had also sent orders to Piorette, Jerome of St. Quirin, and
Labarbe, to send him their best marksmen.
The little dark pathway, lit by a dim lantern, was full of snow, and
passing under the immovable light every instant one could see the
chiefs of the ambush, with their hats pressed down to their ears, the
ample sleeves of their great-coats pulled down over their wrists, with
their dark eyes and beards stiffened with ice.
Pluto no longer growled at the heavy step of these men. Hullin, with
his head between his hands and his elbows on the table, listened
thoughtfully to all their reports:--
"Master Jean-Claude, there is a movement in the direction of
Grandfontaine; and the sounds of galloping are distinguishable."
"Master Jean-Claude, the brandy is frozen."
"Master Jean-Claude, many of the men are in want of powder."
"They are in want of this: they are in want of that."
"Let some one be sent to watch Grandfontaine, and let the sentries on
that side be changed every half-hour." "Let the brandy be brought to
the fire." "Wait until Dives comes: he brings us ammunition. Let the
remainder of the cartridges be distributed. Let those who have more
than twenty give some to their comrades."
And so it went on all the night.
At five in the morning, Kasper, Materne's son, came to tell Hullin that
Marc Dives, with a load of cartridges, Catherine Lefevre on a cart, and
a detachment from Labarbe, had just arrived together, and that they
were already on the plateau.
The tidings pleased him, especially on account of the cartridges, for
he had feared delay.
He immediately rose and went out with Kasper. The plateau presented a
curious spectacle.
On the approach of day, clouds of mist began to rise from the valley,
the fires hissed with the damp, and all around could be seen sleeping
men: one stretched on his back, with his arms thrown under his hat, a
blue face, and doubled-up legs; another with his cheek on his arm and
his back to the fire; the greater number seated, with bent heads and
their muskets slung across their shoulders. All was silent, wrapped in
purple light or gray tints, just as the fire blazed or smouldered.
Then, in the distance, could be discerned the profile of the sentinels,
with their muskets across their arms or clubbed upon the ground, gazing
into the cloud-filled abyss beneath them.
To the right, fifty paces from the last fire, could be heard the
neighing of horses, and people stamping with their feet to warm
themselves, and talking aloud.
"Master Jean-Claude is coming," said Kasper, going toward them.
One of the partisans having thrown a few sticks of dry wood on to the
fire, there was a bright blaze; and Marc Dives's men on horseback,
twelve tall fellows, wrapped in their long gray cloaks, their felts
slouched back over their shoulders, with their long mustaches either
turned up or falling down to their necks, their sabres in their grasp,
stood motionless round the load of cartridges. Farther on Catherine
Lefevre crouched down in her cart, her hood over her face, her feet in
the straw, her back against a large barrel. Behind her was a caldron,
a gridiron, a fresh-killed pig, scalded all white and red, with some
strings of onions and cabbages for making soup. All stood out of the
darkness for a second, and then relapsed into night.
Dives, having quitted the convoy, advanced on his powerful horse.
"Is it you, Jean-Claude?"
"Yes, Marc."
"I have some few thousand cartridges there. Hexe-Baizel is working day
and night."
"Good!"
"Yes, old fellow. And Catherine Lefevre brings provisions as well; she
killed yesterday."
"All right, Marc: we shall want all that. The battle is impending."
"Yes, yes, I thought so; we came quickly. Where is the powder to be
put?"
"There, under the cart-house behind the farm. Ah, is that you,
Catherine?"
"Of course, Jean-Claude. It is dreadfully cold this morning!"
"You are always the same. Have you no fear?"
"What! should I be a woman if I were not curious? I must poke my nose
everywhere."
"Yes, you always make excuses for the fine and noble things you do."
"Hullin, you are wearisome with your repetitions; let me alone with
your compliments. Must not all those people eat? Can they live on air
in such weather as this? And is not air fattening on a day so
cold--like needles and razors. So I took my measures. Yesterday we
slaughtered an ox--poor Schwartz, you know--he weighed a good nine
hundred. I have brought his hind-quarters for this morning's soup."
"Catherine, it is in vain I have known you so long," cried Jean-Claude,
quite touched; "you are always astonishing me. No sacrifice is too
great for you, neither money, care, nor trouble."
"Ah," replied the old farm-wife, rising and springing from her cart,
"you tease and worry me, Jean-Claude. I am going to warm myself."
She gave Dubourg the reins of her horse, and looking back, said,
"Jean-Claude, those fires are a pleasure to behold. But where is
Louise?"
"Louise spent the night cutting and sewing bandages with Pelsly's two
daughters. She is at the ambulance: over there you see, where the
light is shining."
"Poor child!" said Catherine, "I will go and help her. That will warm
me."
Hullin watched her retreating figure, and made a gesture, as though
saying, "What a woman!"
At this moment, Dives and his people were carrying the powder into the
shed, and as Jean-Claude approached the nearest fire, what was his
surprise to see, among the crowd of partisans, Yegof the madman,
crowned as usual, gravely seated on a stone, with his feet in the
ashes, and draped in his rags as though they were a royal mantle.
Anything more strange than this figure by the fire-light could not be
imagined. Yegof was the only one awake of the crowd, and might readily
have been taken for some barbarian king musing in the midst of his
sleeping horde.
Hullin only saw in him a madman, and laying his hand softly on his
shoulder, said, ironically:
"I salute thee, Yegof! Thou art come, then, to lend us the help of thy
invincible arm and of thy countless armies?"
The madman, without showing the least surprise, replied: "That depends
on thee, Hullin; thy fate, and that of all these people, is in thy
hands. I have suspended my anger, and I will allow thee to pronounce
sentence."
"What sentence?" demanded Jean-Claude.
The other, without replying, continued, in a low solemn voice: "Behold
us two on the eve of a great battle, as we were sixteen hundred years
ago. At that time, I, the chief of so many people, came among thy
tribe to ask a passage."
"Sixteen hundred years ago!" said Hullin. "Zounds! Yegof, that makes
us terribly old! But it is of no consequence--each to his taste."
"Yes," rejoined the madman, "but, with thy usual obstinacy, thou
wouldst hear nothing. Men died on the Blutfeld--men who now call for
vengeance!"
"Ah, the Blutfeld!" said Jean-Claude. "Yes, yes, an old story; I seem
to have heard it before."
Yegof reddened, and his eyes sparkled.
"Thou pridest thyself on thy victory!" cried he; "but take care--take
care! blood calls for blood!" And in a calmer tone, "Listen," he
added. "I am not angry with thee. Thou art brave; the children of thy
race might mingle with those of mine. I am anxious for an alliance
with thee--thou knowest it."
"There, he is going to begin about Louise," thought Jean-Claude. And,
foreseeing a formal demand, he said: "Yegof, I am sorry, but I must
leave thee. I have so much to see after----"
The madman did not wait the end of this leave-taking, and rising, with
his face distorted by indignation, "Thou refusest me thy daughter?"
cried he, lifting his finger solemnly.
"We will talk of that later on."
"Thou refusest!"
"Yegof, thy shouts will awaken every one."
"Thou refusest, and it is for the third time! Beware! beware!"
Hullin, despairing of making him become more reasonable, walked rapidly
away, but the madman furiously pursued him with these strange words:
"Huldrix, woe on thee! Thy last hour is at hand; the wolves are coming
to feed upon thy carcass. All is over. I let loose the tempests of my
wrath; and neither to thee nor thine shall mercy, pity, or pardon be
shown. Thou hast so willed it."
And, flinging his rags over his shoulder, the poor wretch went away in
the direction of the peak of Donon.
Some of the volunteers, awakened by his cries, looked up drowsily, and
saw him disappearing in the darkness. They heard the fluttering of
wings round the fire; then, as though it were a dream, they turned
round and fell asleep again.
About an hour later, Lagarmitte sounded the _reveille_; and in a few
minutes all were on their feet.
The chiefs of the ambuscade collected their men: some went toward the
shed, to obtain cartridges; others filled their gourds with brandy from
the cask. All this was done in good order, their chiefs being at the
head of each body of men; then the several companies disappeared in the
gray morning light toward the out-posts on the hill-sides.
When the sun rose, the plateau was quite deserted, and, with the
exception of five or six fires which were still burning, there was no
sign that the partisans were in possession of all the posts on the
mountain, or in what place they had passed the night.
Hullin hurriedly ate a crust and drank a glass of wine with his friends
Doctor Lorquin and Pelsly the anabaptist.
Lagarmitte was with them, for he was not allowed to leave Master
Jean-Claude all day, and had to transmit his orders in case of need.