The Invasion of France in 1814

They continued thus for about two hours: the winter sun was going down to the horizon, night was approaching, bright and calm. They had now only to descend, and then mount, on the other side, the solitary gorge of Kiel, forming a large circular basin in the midst of the woods, and enclosing a bluish pond, where the deer came sometimes to quench their thirst.

Suddenly, as they were coming out from the underwood, not dreaming of anything, the old man, stopping behind a thick screen of shrubs, said "Chut!" and lifting his hand, pointed to the little lake, which was covered with thin clear ice.

The two young fellows needed only to glance toward it to be greeted by a most strange sight. About twenty Cossacks, with yellow shaggy beards, heads covered with old fur caps in the shape of stove-pipes, their lean legs draped in long rags, and their feet in rope stirrups, were seated on their little horses, with long floating manes and thin tails, their bodies speckled yellow, black and white, like goats. Some had for their only weapon a long lance, others a sword, others an axe suspended by a cord to their saddle, and a large horse-pistol passed through their belts. Several were looking upward with ecstasy on the green tops of the pines, rising by stages above each other into the clouds. One great lanky fellow had broken the ice with the butt-end of his lance; and his little horse was drinking with outstretched neck and overhanging mane. A few having dismounted, were clearing the snow and pointing to the wood – no doubt to indicate that it was a good place for encamping. Their comrades on horseback were conversing and pointing to the bottom of the valley on their right, which descends in the form of a gap toward Grinderwald.

Anyway it was a halt. It is impossible to describe the strange and picturesque aspect of these fellows from a strange country, with their copper-colored faces, long beards, black eyes, flat heads, squat noses, and grayish tatters, on the banks of this lake, under the lofty perpendicular rocks lifting up their green pines to the skies.

It seemed a new world in ours, – a sort of unknown and strange game, which the three red hunters at first contemplated with intense interest. Having remained so for about five minutes, Kasper and Frantz fixed their long bayonets at the muzzle of their carbines, and then retired about twenty paces into the underwood. They reached a rock, fifteen or twenty feet high, which Materne climbed, having no arms; then, after a few words exchanged in whispers, Kasper examined his priming and raised his musket slowly to his shoulder, while his brother stood by in readiness.

One of the Cossacks – he who was letting his horse drink – was about two hundred paces from them. The gun went off, awakening the deep echoes of the gorge; and the Cossack, spinning over his horse's head, plunged through the ice of the lake.

It is impossible to describe the stupor of the party at this report. They looked round them in every direction: the echo replied as though it had been a general fusillade; while a puff of smoke rose above the clump of trees where the hunters were hiding.

Kasper had reloaded his piece in a moment; but in the same space of time the dismounted Cossacks had bounded on their horses, and all took flight over the slope of the Hartz, one after the other, like roebucks, screaming wildly, "Hourah! hourah!"

This flight was but the work of a moment: the instant Kasper took aim for the second time, the tail of the last horse disappeared in the bushes.

The horse of the dead Cossack alone remained at the water's edge, held there by a singular circumstance: his master, whose head and part of whose body was in the water, had his foot still in the stirrup.

Materne listened from his rock, then said joyously – "They are gone! Well, let us go and see. Frantz, remain here. Suppose any of them should return – ?"

Notwithstanding this recommendation, they all three approached near the horse. Materne immediately took the bridle, saying: – "Come, old fellow, we are going to teach you to speak French."

"Let us be off," exclaimed Kasper.

"No, we must see what we have shot. Don't you see that will be good for our comrades? Dogs who have not sniffed the skin of the game are never well trained."

Whereupon they fished the Cossack out of the pool, and having placed him across the horse, began to climb the side of the Donon by such a steep path, that Materne repeated, a hundred times at least, – "The horse will never go up there." But the horse, with its long goat-like legs, passed more easily than they did; so that the old hunter wound up by remarking – "These Cossacks have famous horses. If ever I grow old, I will keep him to go after the deer with. We have a famous horse, my boys; with all his look of a cow, he is strong as a cart-horse."

From time to time he also made reflections on the Cossack: – "What a queer face, eh! A round nose and a forehead like a cheese-box. There are certainly queer folks in the world! Thou hast hit him well, Kasper; right in the middle of the chest. And look! the ball came out at the back. Capital powder! Divès always keeps good articles."

Toward six they heard the first shout of their sentinels: "Who goes there?"

"France," replied Materne, advancing.

Everybody ran to meet them. "Here is Materne!"

Hullin himself was as curious as the rest, and could not help hastening toward them with Doctor Lorquin. The partisans were soon collected round the horse, with outstretched necks and open mouths, by the side of a large fire where the supper was cooking.

"It is a Cossack," said Hullin, squeezing Materne's hand.

"Yes, Jean-Claude; we caught him at the pond of Kiel: it was Kasper who shot him."

They stretched the corpse out near the fire. His yellow face had strange shadows on it in the firelight.

Doctor Lorquin, having looked at him, said: "It is a fine specimen of the Tartar race; if I had time, I should put it in a lime-bath, so as to obtain a skeleton of this tribe."

He then knelt down, and opening the long tunic, – "The ball has traversed the pericardium, and has produced almost the same effect as aneurism of the heart."

The others kept silence.

Kasper, with his hand on the muzzle of his rifle, seemed quite contented with his game; and old Materne, rubbing his hands, said: "I was sure I would bring you back something: my boys and I never return empty-handed. There now!"

Hullin then pulled him aside. They entered the farm together, and after the first surprise was over, every man began to make his own personal reflections on the Cossack.

CHAPTER XIII

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, Jérome 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 Divès 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 Divès, with a load of cartridges, Catherine Lefèvre 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.