A FLAG OF TRUCE
Catherine Lefevre came out of the ancient ruin about seven in the
morning; Louise and Hexe-Baizel were still asleep; but broad daylight,
the clear light of the high regions, was already penetrating the
abysses. In the depths, through the azure, the woods, valleys, and
rocks could be clearly traced, like the mosses and pebbles of a lake
beneath the blue crystal water. Not a breath disturbed the air; and
Catherine, gazing over this grand spectacle, felt a calmness and
tranquillity beyond even that which comes of sleep. "What are our
miseries of a day," thought she, "our uneasinesses and our sufferings?
Why pester heaven with our moans? why fear the future? All this lasts
but a second; our sighs are of no more avail than the chirp of the
grasshopper in autumn; and do its cries prevent winter from coming?
Must not time pursue its course, and everything die to be renewed?"
Thus thought the old dame, and she had no longer any fears for the
future. She had been thus musing for a few instants, when suddenly a
hum of voices struck her ears: she turned, and saw Hullin with the
three smugglers, talking seriously together on the other side of the
plateau. They were engaged in a grave discussion, and had not noticed
her. Catherine approached closer to them, and heard the following
conversation:--
"Then you do not think it possible for any one to get down either side?"
"No, Jean-Claude, it is quite impossible," replied Brenn; "those
brigands know the country thoroughly well: all the paths are guarded.
Hold, look along the paths of that stream: we never dreamt of observing
it even; well! they are defending that now. And over there, on the
passage of the Rothstein, a path only for a goat, which is not trodden
once in ten years--thou canst see a bayonet sparkle behind the rock,
canst thou not? And that nearer path along which I have slipped with
my bags for these eight years past without meeting a single gendarme,
they occupy that also: the devil certainly must have showed them all
the defiles."
"Yes," exclaimed Joubac, "if the devil has nothing to do with it, at
least Yegof has!"
"But," continued Hullin, "it seems to me that three or four men might,
if they liked, push through one of those posts."
"No, those posts lean one on the other; at the first shot one would
have a whole regiment upon one's shoulders," replied Brenn. "Besides,
supposing one had the luck to get through, how could one return with
provisions? My opinion is, that it is impossible."
There was a pause.
"After that," said Joubac, "if Hullin likes we will try all the same."
"We will try what?" said Brenn. "To break our legs in escaping
ourselves, and leave the others in the trap. I don't mind; if any
others go, I will too. But as for pretending to return with
provisions, it is impossible. Come, Joubac, by which way art thou
going, and by which way wilt thou return? If thou knowest of a
passage, tell me. For twenty years I have scoured the mountain with
Marc. I know all the paths and roads ten leagues round, and I see no
other way but through the sky!"
Hullin turned round at that moment and saw Mother Lefevre, close
behind, listening attentively.
"What! were you there, Catherine?" said he. "Our affairs are taking a
bad turn."
"Yes, I heard; there is no means of renewing our provisions."
"Our provisions!" said Brenn with a queer laugh. "Are you aware,
Mother Lefevre, for how long we have them?"
"Why, for a fortnight," replied the old dame.
"For a week," said the smuggler, shaking out the ashes from his pipe.
"It is true," said Hullin, "Marc Dives and myself thought they would
attack the Falkenstein; we never imagined the enemy would blockade it
like a fortress. We have been deceived!"
"And what is to be done?" said Catherine, turning pale.
"We are going to put everybody on half rations. If, in a fortnight,
Marc does not return we shall have nothing left--then we shall see."
So saying, Hullin, Catherine, and the smugglers, with bowed heads, took
the path to the breach again. As they were coming down the slope,
thirty feet below them they perceived Materne. He was climbing
breathlessly among the ruins, and clutched hold of the bushes to help
him along faster.
"Well," shouted Jean-Claude to him; "what is the matter, old fellow?"
"Ah! there thou art. I was coming to find thee; one of the enemy's
officers has come forward on the wall of the old 'burg' with a little
white flag; he looks as though he had something to say to us."
Hullin advanced immediately to the edge of the rock, and saw a German
officer standing on the wall, and awaiting a signal to mount. He was
about two gun-shots distant; farther behind five or six soldiers were
stationed with their arms shouldered. After having inspected this
group, Jean-Claude turned and said: "It is a flag of truce. He comes
no doubt to summon us to surrender."
"Fire upon them!" cried Catherine; "it is all we have to say."
All the others appeared of the same advice, excepting Hullin, who,
without making any reply descended to the terrace, where the rest of
the partisans were assembled.
"My children," said he, "the enemy sends us a flag of truce. We do not
know what he wants of us. I suppose it is to order us to lay down our
arms; but it may possibly be something else. Frantz and Kasper will go
to meet him; they must blindfold the officer and lead him here."
No objection being made, Materne's sons shouldered their carbines and
walked away under the lofty arch. About ten minutes later, the two
red-haired hunters reached the officer; there was a rapid conference
between them, after which all three began to climb to the Falkenstein.
By degrees, as the party ascended, the uniform of the officer and his
face could be distinguished: he was a thin man, with light brown hair,
well made, and determined-looking. At the foot of the rock Frantz and
Kasper blindfolded him, and soon the sound of their steps under the
arch could be heard.
Jean-Claude going toward them, himself unbound the handkerchief,
saying, "You desire to communicate something to me, sir; I am
listening."
The partisans stood about fifteen paces away. Catherine Lefevre, the
foremost among them, frowned; her bony, angular face, long beaked nose,
her three or four tresses of gray hair, falling down over her temples
and hollow cheek-bones, her compressed lips, and the fixity of her
gaze, appeared at first to rivet the attention of the German officer.
Next to her stood Louise, with her sweet pale face. Jerome, with his
long tawny beard, draped in his horse-hair tunic, and Materne, leaning
on his short carbine, and the others around him completed the group.
The officer himself was the object of particular attention. One could
see in him, his attitude, fine sunburnt features, clear gray eyes,
handsome mustache, in the elegance of his limbs, hardened by the labors
of war, a member of an aristocratic race: he combined the old soldier
and the man of the world, the warrior and the diplomatist.
This reciprocal inspection being finished, the bearer of the flag of
truce said, in good French, "I have the honor of addressing the
Commandant Hullin?"
"Yes, sir," replied Jean-Claude.
And seeing the other gazing hesitatingly around the circle, he
continued, "Speak loud, sir, so that everybody may hear you. When
honor and the country are in question all are concerned in France; the
women are interested as well as ourselves. Have you any proposition to
make me, and from whom?"
"From the General Commander-in-chief. Here is my commission."
"Good; we are listening to you, sir."
Then the officer, raising his voice, said in a resolute tone: "Permit
me first, commandant, to remark that you have fulfilled your duty
splendidly: you have called forth the esteem of your enemies."
"In the matter of duty," replied Hullin, "we have all done our best."
"Yes," added Catherine, dryly, "and since our enemies esteem us on that
account, well, they will esteem us still more in eight or fifteen days,
for we have not reached the end of the war yet. You will live to see
more of us."
The officer turned his head, and looked with astonishment at the savage
energy in the old woman's face.
"They are noble sentiments," he retorted, after an instant's silence:
"but humanity has its rights, and to squander blood uselessly is
returning evil for evil."
"Then why do you come into our country?" cried Catherine sharply. "Go
away, and we will let you alone. You make war like brigands: you
steal, pillage, and burn. You all deserve to be hanged. And to set a
good example, you personally ought to be hurled over that rock."
The officer turned pale, for the old woman seemed quite capable of
carrying out her threat; however he soon regained his composure, and
replied calmly: "I am aware that the Cossacks have set fire to the farm
in front of this rock. They are pillagers, such as are to be found in
the rear of every army, and this isolated act proves nothing against
the discipline of our troops. The French soldiers did the same in
Germany, and particularly in the Tyrol; not content with pillaging and
burning the villages, they mercilessly shot all mountaineers suspected
of having taken up arms for the defence of their country. We might
make reprisals, and should be justified in doing so; but we are not
barbarians, we can understand that patriotism is noble and grand, even
in its most ill-advised acts. Besides, we are not making war on the
French people, but on the Emperor Napoleon. And the general, on
learning the conduct of the Cossacks, has publicly punished this act of
Vandalism; more, he has decided that an indemnity shall be accorded to
the proprietor of the farm."
"I will not receive anything from you," Catherine hastily interrupted;
"I will keep my injustice and revenge myself."
The officer understanding by the accent of the old woman's voice that
he could make no impression upon her, and feeling that it was even
dangerous for him to reply, turned toward Hullin, and said: "I am
ordered, commandant, to offer you the honors of war if you will consent
to give up this position. You have no provisions, we know that. In a
few days you will be obliged to lay down your arms. The esteem felt
for you by our general has alone caused him to make you honorable
conditions. A longer resistance would be useless. We are masters of
the Donon, our battalions are entering Lorraine; the campaign will not
be concluded here, therefore you have no interest in defending such a
position. We wish to spare you the horrors of famine on this barren
rock. Come, commandant, decide."
Hullin turned toward the partisans and said to them: "You have heard?
I refuse; but I will submit if everybody accepts the propositions of
the enemy."
"We refuse, all of us," said Jerome.
"Yes, all," replied the others.
Catherine Lefevre, who had looked inflexible till then, regarded Louise
and seemed touched; she took her by the arm, and turning toward the
officer, said to him: "We have a child with us; is there no means by
which we could send her to one of our relations at Saverne?"
Hardly had Louise heard these words, than throwing herself into
Hullin's arms with fear, she cried out: "No, no, I will remain with
you, Papa Jean-Claude; I will die with you."
"Well," said Hullin; "go tell your general what you have seen: tell him
that the Falkenstein will be ours till death! Kasper, Frantz,
reconduct the truce-bearer."
The officer appeared to hesitate, but as he opened his mouth to speak,
Catherine, pale with rage, exclaimed, "Begone! you have not yet gained
all the advantages you think. It is that brigand Yegof who has told
you that we have no provisions; but we have for two months, and by that
time our army will have exterminated you all. Traitors will not always
have the best of it: bad luck to you."
Seeing she was becoming more and more excited, the officer thought it
best to take his departure: he turned to his guides, who put the
bandages over his eyes, and conducted him to the foot of the
Falkenstein.
The instructions which Hullin had given concerning the provisions were
executed on the same day, and each received his half ration. A sentry
was placed before Hexe-Baizel's cavern, where the food was kept; the
door was barricaded, and Jean-Claude decided that the distributions
should be made in the presence of all, so as to prevent any injustice;
but all these precautions were destined to fail in preserving the
unfortunate people from the horrors of famine.