"BATTLE OF THE ROCKS"
For three days they had been entirely without food on the Falkenstein,
and Dives had given no signs of life. How often, during those long
days of agony, did the mountaineers turn their eyes toward
Phalsbourg!--how often had they listened, fancying they could hear the
smuggler's step, while the vague murmur of the wind alone filled the
space!
The nineteenth day since the arrival of the partisans on the
Falkenstein was passed amidst all the tortures of hunger. They no
longer spoke; they remained crouched on the earth, with pinched faces,
and lost in endless reveries. Sometimes they watched each other with
sparkling eyes, as though about to devour one another, then relapsed
into sullen calm.
Occasionally Yegof's raven, flying from crag to crag, would approach
this place of misfortune. Then old Materne would take aim with his
rifle, but the ill-omened bird would immediately take flight with
dismal croakings, and the old hunter's arm fell helpless by his side.
And as though the exhaustion of hunger was not enough to fill the
measure of so much misery, the poor creatures only opened their mouths
to accuse and menace one another.
"Do not touch me," cried Hexe-Baizel, in a shrill voice to those who
looked at her--"do not look at me, or I will bite you!"
Louise was delirious; her great blue eyes, instead of living objects,
saw only shadows flit across the plateau, touching the tops of the
bushes, and resting on the old tower.
"Here is food!" she said. Then the others became enraged with the poor
child, crying out with fury, that she was mocking them, and bidding her
beware.
Jerome alone remained perfectly calm; but the great quantity of snow he
had swallowed to appease the pangs of ravenous hunger, had inundated
his whole body and bony face with a cold sweat. To appease the
cravings of his stomach, Doctor Lorquin had bound a handkerchief round
his loins, and tightened it more and more. He was seated with his back
against the tower, and his eyes closed, though he now and then opened
them to say, "We have reached the first--the second--the third stage.
One more day, and all will be over!"
He then began to declaim about the Druids, Odin, Brahma, Pythagoras,
quoting Latin and Greek, and announcing the near transformation of the
people of Harberg into wolves, foxes, and animals of all sorts. "For
myself," he exclaimed, "I will be a lion! I will eat fifteen pounds of
beef every day!"
Then renewing his discourse:--"No, I will be a man. I will preach
peace, brotherhood, justice. Ah, my friends, we suffer for our own
faults. What have we done with the other side of the Rhine for the
last ten years? With what right did we set up masters over those
peoples? Why did we not exchange our ideas, our sentiments, the
produce of our arts and of our industry with theirs? Why did we not
approach them like brothers, in place of wishing to subject them to us?
We should have been well received. What must they not have suffered,
those unhappy people, during those ten years of violence and rapine!
Now they are avenged, and it is just! May the malediction of heaven
fall on the miserable wretches who get up divisions among peoples in
order to oppress them!"
After these moments of excitement he would fall exhausted against the
wall of the tower, and murmur--"Some bread; oh, only a morsel of bread!"
Materne's two sons, crouched in the brushwood, their carbines at their
shoulders, seemed to expect the passage of some game which never
arrived. Their ceaseless watching alone sustained their expiring
strength.
Others, bent double with pain, were shivering with cold, and yet were
burning with fever: they reproached Jean-Claude with having brought
them to the Falkenstein.
Hullin, with a superhuman force of character, still went and came,
observing what took place in the neighboring valleys, but without
saying anything.
Occasionally he would advance to the edge of the rock, and with his
massive jaws clinched and shining eyes, looked at Yegof, seated before
a large fire, on the plains of Bois-de-Chenes, in the midst of a band
of Cossacks. Since the arrival of the Germans in the valley of the
Charmes, the madman had never quitted his post, but appeared to be
watching the agony of his victims.
Such was the position of these unfortunate people beneath the open
heaven.
In the gloom of a prison the torture of hunger is doubtless frightful,
but in the broad light of day, in the eyes of a whole country, in face
of all the resources of nature, its sufferings are beyond all
description.
At the close of the nineteenth day, between four and five o'clock in
the afternoon, the weather was gloomy; large gray clouds rose behind
the snowy summit of the Grosmann; the red sun, like a ball of fire,
threw a few last rays into the misty horizon. The silence on the rock
was unbroken. Louise no longer gave signs of life; Kasper and Frantz
remained among the bushes immovable as stones; Catherine Lefevre,
crouching on the earth, her skinny arms clasped round her pointed
knees, with hard, rigid features, her hair hanging over her clammy
cheeks, looked like some old sibyl seated in the heather. She had
ceased speaking. That evening, Hullin, Jerome, old Materne, and Doctor
Lorquin gathered themselves around the old farm-mistress to die. They
were silent, and the last rays of twilight fell upon the wretched
group. To the right, behind a jutting rock, a few German watch-fires
sparkled in the abyss. Suddenly the old dame, rousing from her dreams,
began to murmur some unintelligible words.
"Dives is coming," said she, in a low voice. "I see him. He goes out
from the door to the right of the arsenal. Gaspard follows him,
and----"
Then she began to count.
"Two hundred and fifty men," she exclaimed; "National Guards and
soldiers. They cross the ditch; they mount behind the demilune.
Gaspard is speaking with Marc. What does he say?"
She appeared to listen.
"Let us hurry!--yes, hurry! Time flies! There they are on the glacis!"
There was a long pause; then the old woman suddenly arose, with
outstretched arms and hair on end, and screamed aloud in a terrible
voice:--"Courage! Kill, kill! Ah, ah!" And she fell down heavily.
This fearful cry awoke them all; it would have aroused the dead. The
besieged seemed born anew. Something was abroad. Was it hope, life, a
spirit? I know not; but all rose up on their hands and knees, like
wild beasts, holding their breath to hear. Louise even moved softly
and lifted her head; Frantz and Kasper dragged themselves along; and,
strange to say, Hullin, turning his eyes toward Phalsbourg, thought he
saw through the darkness the flashes of a fusillade announcing a sortie.
Catherine had resumed her first appearance; but her cheeks, before
still and pale as those of a corpse, trembled now. The others listened
as though their salvation hung on her lips. A quarter of an hour
nearly had passed, when the old dame slowly recommenced:--"They have
passed the enemy's lines; they are running toward Lutzelbourg. I see
them! Gaspard and Dives are before, with Desmarets, Ulrich, Weber, and
our friends of the town. They come! they come!"
She again became silent. Long did they listen; but the vision was
gone. Seconds followed seconds slowly like centuries. At length,
Hexe-Baizel, in an angry voice, began to say:--"She is mad! She saw
nothing! Marc, I know him: he is making fun of us. What does it
matter to him if we perish? So long as he has his bottle and tobacco
and can smoke his pipe in peace by the fireside, all the rest is
nothing. Ah, the wretch!"
Then all relapsed into silence, and the unhappy creatures, reanimated
for an instant by hope of a speedy deliverance, again fell into despair.
"It is a dream," thought they; "Hexe-Baizel is right: we are condemned
to die of hunger."
While this was going on night arrived. When the moon rose behind the
high pine-trees, and lit up the gloomy group, Hullin alone kept watch,
in spite of his raging fever. Far off--very far off in the gorges--he
heard the voices of the German sentries; "Wer da? Wer da?" the rounds
of the patrols in the woods; the shrill neighing of the horses at the
picket, and the shouts of their keepers. Toward midnight the worthy
fellow fell asleep like the rest. When he awoke, the clock of the
village of Charmes struck four. At the sound of the distant chimes,
Hullin shook off his drowsiness, and he opened his eyes. As he gazed
unconsciously into the darkness, trying to collect his thoughts, the
vague glimmer of a torch passed before his eyes. A feeling of dread
came over him, and he said to himself:--"Am I mad? The night is dark,
and I see torches!"
Nevertheless, the flame reappeared; he looked at it, then raised
himself quickly, resting his contracted face for a second in his hand.
At length, hazarding one more look, he distinctly saw a fire on the
Giromani, on the other side of Blanru--a fire which swept the heavens
with its purple wings, causing the shadows of the pines to dance on the
snow. Recalling to himself that this signal had been agreed upon
between him and Piorette to announce an attack, he trembled from head
to foot, his face streamed with perspiration, and, walking in the dark,
groping like a blind man with his hands outstretched, he
stammered,--"Catherine, Louise, Jerome." But no one answered. Still
groping about, thinking he was walking while he did not make a step,
the unfortunate man fell down, exclaiming, "My children! Catherine!
they come! We are saved!"
A vague sound immediately arose. One would have said that the dead
were awaking. There was a shrill laugh: it was Hexe-Baizel, gone mad
from her sufferings.
Then Catherine exclaimed: "Hullin! Hullin! who spoke?"
Jean-Claude, recovering from his emotion, said, in firmer tones:
"Jerome, Catherine, Materne, and the others, are you dead? Do you not
see that fire down there, in the direction of Blanru? It is Piorette,
who is coming to our assistance."
At the same instant, a deep boom rolled along the gorges of the
Jaegerthal, like the rumbling of a storm. The summoning trumpet of the
Judgment could not have produced a greater effect on the besieged: they
suddenly awoke.
"It is Piorette! it is Marc!" cried broken, harsh voices, such as might
have belonged to skeletons; "they are coming to our aid!"
And all the wretched creatures tried to rise: some sobbed; but they had
no longer any tears to shed. A second report brought them upright.
"They are firing in detachments," said Hullin. "Ours are doing so too.
We have soldiers in lines! France forever!"
"Yes," replied Jerome. "Mother Catherine was right; the Phalsbourgers
are coming to our assistance; they are descending the hills of the
Sarre; and there is Piorette, who is now attacking by Blanru."
Indeed, the fusillade now began to resound on both sides at once,
toward the plateau of Bois-de-Chenes and the heights of Kilberi.
The two chiefs embraced; and, as they groped along in the dark night,
seeking to reach the edge of the rock, suddenly Materne cried out,
"Take care, the precipice is near!"
They stopped short and looked down; but nothing was to be seen: a
current of cold air ascending from the abyss alone warned them of the
danger. The peaks and gorges round were all plunged in darkness. On
the hill-sides in front the flashes of the fusillade passed like
lightning, illuminating now an old oak, now the heather, or the black
outline of some rock; and groups of men were coming and going, as
though in the midst of a conflagration. Two thousand feet below, in
the depth of the gorge, could be heard dull sounds of galloping horses,
and the clamors of command. Now, the shout of a mountaineer hailing
another was prolonged from peak to peak, and arose to the Falkenstein
like a sigh.
"It is Marc!" said Hullin; "it is Marc's voice!"
"Yes, it is Marc, who bids us have courage," replied Jerome.
The others looked around them with outstretched necks, their hands
grasping the rock. The fusillade continued with a vivacity that
betrayed the fury of the battle; but nothing could be seen. Oh! how
they wished to take part in this supreme struggle! With what ardor
would they not have thrown themselves into the fire! The fear of being
abandoned once more, of seeing by daylight their defenders retreating,
rendered them speechless with terror.
Day began to dawn; the pale light arose behind the black summits, and
began to illumine the gloomy valleys, and soon the fog of the abyss
turned to silvery mists. Hullin, looking across the openings of these
clouds, at length made out the position. The Germans had lost the
heights of Valtin, and the plain of Bois-de-Chenes. They were massed
in the valley of Charmes, at the foot of the Falkenstein, so as to
obtain shelter from their adversaries' fire. Piorette, master of
Bois-de-Chenes, had thrown out outworks, in front of the rock, on the
side of the descent to Charmes. He was pacing to and fro, his pipe in
his mouth, and carbine slung across his shoulders; and the blue axes of
the wood-cutters glistened in the rising sun. On the left of the
village, toward Valtin, in the midst of the furze, Marc Dives, on a
small black horse, with a long tail, his blade by his side, pointed to
the ruins and the sledge road; while an infantry officer and a few
National Guards were listening to him. Gaspard Lefevre stood alone, in
front of the group, leaning on his gun; and, on the summit of the hill,
by the wood, two or three hundred men were keeping watch.
The sight of the small number of their defenders caused the hearts of
the besieged to grow fearful; all the more so, as the Germans were
seven or eight times superior in numbers, and had already begun to form
columns of attack, to regain the positions they had lost. Horsemen
were conveying on all sides the general's orders, and the bayonets
began to defile.
"It is all over," said Hullin to Jerome. "What are five or six hundred
men to do against four thousand in line of battle? The Phalsbourgers
will return to their houses and say, 'We have done our duty.' And
Piorette will be crushed."
The others thought so too; and their despair was brought to a climax
when they suddenly saw a long file of Cossacks riding furiously along
the valley of Charmes, with Yegof the madman galloping like the wind at
their head, his beard, horse's tail, dogskin, and red hair floating
wildly in the air. He looked up at the rock, and brandished his lance
above his head. Reaching the bottom of the valley, he made at once for
the enemy's staff, and coming up to the general, he indicated by
gestures the other side of the plateau of Bois-de-Chenes.
"Ah, the brigand!" shouted Hullin. "See, he tells them that Piorette
has no outworks on that side, that they must go round the mountain."
In fact, a column began immediately to march in that direction, while
another went toward the outworks to mask the movement of the first.
"Materne," cried Jean-Claude, "is there no means of sending a ball into
the madman?"
The old hunter shook his head.
"No," said he, "it is impossible; he is out of range."
Just then, Catherine Lefevre gave a wild scream like a hawk.
"Crush them, crush them, as they did at the Blutfeld!"
And the old woman, an instant before so feeble, threw herself on a mass
of rock, lifted it with both hands, advanced, with her streaming gray
hair, bent over to the edge of the abyss, and the rock dashed through
the space beneath.
A terrible crash resounded below, pieces of pine flew out on all sides,
the great stone rebounded a hundred feet away, and descending the steep
slope with fresh impulse, struck Yegof, and crushed him at the feet of
the enemy's general. This was but the work of a few seconds.
Catherine, upright on the edge of the rock laughed with a rattling
sound, which seemed as though it would never end.
The others, as though all animated with new life, precipitated
themselves on the ruins of the old castle, shouting: "Slay them! slay
them! Crush them as at the Blutfeld!"
[Illustration: "LET US OVERWHELM THEM, AS AT BLUTFELD!"]
It is impossible to imagine a more terrible scene. These beings, at
death's very door, lean and haggard as skeletons, found strength for
the carnage. They no longer stumbled, they trembled no more; each one
lifted his stone and threw it down the precipice, then returned to take
another, without even looking to see what was passing below.
Imagine the stupor of the "kaiserlichs" at this deluge of ruins and
rocks. All had turned at the sound of the stones bounding above
through the bushes and clumps of trees. At first they stopped as
though petrified; but looking higher up, and seeing more and more
stones descending, and above it all the spectres coming and going,
lifting their arms, and continually discharging fresh burdens--seeing
their comrades crushed, fifteen or twenty at a time, an immense cry
went up from the valley of Charmes to the Falkenstein, and,
notwithstanding the fusillade which they kept up on every side, the
Germans scampered away to escape this fearful death.
In the thickest of the rout, the enemy's general contrived to rally a
battalion, and descend slowly toward the village.
There was something grand and dignified about this man, so calm in the
midst of disaster. He turned from time to time with a gloomy look to
watch the bounding rocks, which made ghastly havoc in his columns.
Jean-Claude observed him, and, notwithstanding the intoxication of his
triumph and the certitude of having escaped famine, the old soldier
could not suppress a feeling of admiration.
"Look," said he to Jerome, "he acts as he did on returning from the
Donon and Grosmann: he is the last to retire, and yields only bit by
bit. There are, indeed, brave fellows in every country!"
Marc Dives and Piorette, the witnesses of this stroke of fortune, then
descended into the midst of the fir-trees, to try and cut off the
retreat of the enemy. But the battalion, reduced to half its strength,
formed into square behind the village of Charmes, and slowly ascended
the valley of the Sarre, stopping sometimes, like a wounded boar who
turns to look at the huntsmen, whenever Piorette's men or those of
Phalsbourg tried to press too nearly upon them.
Thus terminated the great battle of the Falkenstein, known in the
mountains under the name of the Battle of the Rocks.