The Invasion of France in 1814

"What for?"

"Because thou wilt have to go into the villages, and if thou art taken in arms, thou wilt be shot directly."

"Shot?"

"Certainly. We do not belong to the regular troops; they do not take us prisoners; they shoot us. Thou wilt follow, then, the road to Schirmeck, stick in hand, and thy sons will accompany thee at a distance, in the underwood, within musket-range. If any marauders attack thee, they will come to thy rescue; if it is a column, or a handful of troops, they must allow thee to be taken."

"They are to let me be taken!" cried the old hunter, indignantly. "I should like to see that."

"Yes, Materne; it will be the best plan: for an unarmed man would be released, an armed shot. I do not need to tell thee not to sing out to the Germans that thou art come to spy upon them."

"Ah, ah! I comprehend. Yes, yes, that is not badly planned. As for me, I never quit my gun, Jean-Claude, but war is war. Hold! there is my carbine, and my powder-flask, and my knife. Who will lend me his blouse and his stick?"

Nickel Bentz handed him his blue blouse and his cap. They were surrounded by an admiring crowd.

After he had changed his clothes, notwithstanding his large gray mustaches, one would have taken the old hunter for a simple peasant from the high mountains.

His two sons, proud to be of this first expedition, looked to the priming of their muskets, and fixed to the end of the barrel a boar-spear, straight and long as a sword. They felt their hunting-knives, flung their bags upon their backs, and confident that all was in order, they glanced proudly round them.

"Ah," said Doctor Lorquin, laughing, "do not forget Master Jean-Claude's advice. Be careful. One German more or less in a hundred thousand would not make much difference in our affairs; whereas if one or the other of you came back to us injured, you would be replaced with difficulty."

"Oh, fear nothing, doctor: we shall have our eyes open."

"My boys," replied Materne, haughtily, "are true hunters; they know how to wait the moment and profit by it. They will only fire when I call. You can rest assured! and now, let us start; we must be back before night."

They departed.

"Good luck to you!" shouted Hullin, while they mounted the snow in order to avoid the breastworks.

They soon descended toward the narrow path, which turns sharply on the right of the mountain.

The partisans watched them. Their red frizzy hair, long muscular legs, their broad shoulders, and supple, quick movements, – all showed that in case of an encounter, five or six "kaiserlichs" would have little chance against such fine fellows.

In a quarter of an hour they had reached the pine-forest and disappeared.

Then Hullin quietly returned to the farm, talking to Nickel Bentz.

Doctor Lorquin walked behind, followed by Pluto, and all the others returned to their places round the bivouac fires.

CHAPTER XII

THE LANDLORD OF THE "PINEAPPLE"

Materne and his two boys walked for some time in silence. The weather had become fine; the pale winter sun shone over the brilliant snow without melting it, and the ground remained firm and hard.

In the distance, along the valley, stood out, with surprising clearness, the tops of the fir-trees, the reddish peaks of the rocks, the roofs of the hamlets, with their icy stalactites hanging from the eaves, their small sparkling windows, and sharp gables.

People were walking in the street of Grandfontaine. A troupe of young girls were standing round the washing-place; a few old men in cotton caps were smoking their pipes on the doorsteps of the little houses. All this little world, lying in the depths of the blue expanse, came, and went, and lived, without a sound or sigh reaching the ears of the foresters.

The old hunter halted on the outskirts of the wood, and said to his sons: "I am going down to the village to see Dubreuil, the innkeeper of the 'Pineapple.'"

And he pointed with his stick to a long white building, the doors and windows of which were surrounded with a yellow bordering, a pine-branch being suspended to the wall as a signboard.

"You must await me here. If there is no danger, I will come out on to the doorstep and raise my hat; you can then come and take a glass of wine with me."

He immediately descended the snowy slopes to the little gardens lying above Grandfontaine, which took about ten minutes; he then made his way between two furrows, reached the meadow, and crossed the village square: his two sons, with their arms at their feet, saw him enter the inn. A few seconds after he reappeared on the doorstep and raised his hat.

Fifteen minutes later they had rejoined their father in the great room of the "Pineapple." It was a rather low room with a sanded floor, and heated by a large iron stove.

Excepting the innkeeper Dubreuil, the biggest and most apoplectic landlord in the Vosges, with immense paunch, round eyes, flat nose, a wart on his left cheek, and a triple chin reaching over his collar – with the exception of this curious individual, seated near the stove in a leather arm-chair, Materne was alone. He had just filled the glasses. The clock was striking nine, and its wooden cock flapped its wing with a peculiar scraping sound.

"Good-day, Father Dubreuil," said the two youths in a gruff voice.

"Good-day, my brave fellows," replied the innkeeper, trying to smile.

Then, in an oily voice, he asked them, "Nothing new?"

"Faith, no!" replied Kasper; "here is winter, the time for hunting boars."

And they both, putting their carbines in the corner of the window, within reach, in case of attack, passed one leg across the bench, and sat down, facing their father, who was at the head of the table.

At the same time they drank, saying, "To our healths!" which they were always very careful to do.

"Thus," said Materne, turning to the fat man, as though taking up the threads of an interrupted conversation, "you think, Father Dubreuil, that we have nothing to fear from the wood of Baronies, and that we may hunt boar peaceably?"

"Oh, as to that, I know nothing!" exclaimed the innkeeper; "only at present the allies have not passed Mutzig. Besides, they harm no one; they receive all well-disposed people to fight against the usurper."

"The usurper? Who is he?"

"Why, Napoleon Bonaparte, the usurper, to be sure. Just look at the wall."

He pointed to a great placard stuck on the wall, near the clock.

"Look at that, and you will see that the Austrians are our true friends."

Old Materne's eyebrows nearly met, but, repressing his feelings, "Oh, ah!" said he.

"Yes, read that."

"But I do not know how to read, Monsieur Dubreuil, nor my boys either. Explain to us what it is."

Then the old innkeeper, leaning with his hands on the arms of his chair, arose, breathing like a calf, and placed himself in front of the placard, with his arms folded on his enormous paunch; and in a majestic tone he read a proclamation from the allied sovereigns, declaring "that they made war on Napoleon personally, and not on France. Therefore everybody ought to keep quiet and not meddle in their affairs, under pain of being burnt, pillaged, and shot."

The three hunters listened, and looked at each other with a strange air.

When Dubreuil had finished, he reseated himself and said, "Now do you see?"

"And where did you get that?" demanded Kasper.