The Invasion of France in 1814

Then the voices became hoarse, as though stifled, and relapsed into silence. The joy of some, and the consternation of others, produced a terrible sensation. Louise was in Hullin's arms, sobbing bitterly.

"Ah, Jean-Claude," said Mother Lefèvre, "you will hear strange things about that child. I will say no more now, but we have been attacked – "

"Yes, we will talk of that later; our time is short," said Hullin. "The road to the Donon is lost, the Cossacks may be here at daylight, and we have many things to arrange."

He turned the corner and entered the farm, all following him. Duchêne had just thrown a fagot on the fire. All these people, with faces blackened by powder, still animated by the combat, their clothes torn by bayonet-thrusts, some blood-stained, advancing from the darkness into the light, presented a strange spectacle. Kasper, whose forehead was bandaged with his handkerchief, had received a sabre-cut; his bayonet, buff facings, and high blue gaiters, were stained with blood. Old Materne, thanks to his imperturbable presence of mind, returned safe and sound from the fray. The remains of Jérome's and Hullin's troops were thus once more united. They wore the same wild physiognomies, animated by the same energy and desire for vengeance. But Hullin's men, harassed by fatigue, sat down right and left, on the fagots, on the stone sink, on the low pavement of the hearth – their heads in their hands and elbows on their knees; while Jérome's, who could not be convinced of the disappearance of Hans, Joson, and Daniel, looked about everywhere, exchanging questions, broken by long pauses. Materne's two sons held each other by the arm, as though afraid of losing one another, and their father, behind them, leaning against the wall, with his elbow on his gun, watched them with an expression of satisfaction.

"There they are, I see them," he seemed to say: "two famous fellows! They have saved their skins, both of them." If any one came to ask him about Pierre, Jacques, or Nicolas, his son or his brother, he would reply hap-hazard – "Yes, yes, there are several lying down there on their backs. What can you expect? It is war! Your Nicolas has done his duty. You must console yourself." Meanwhile he thought – "Mine are out of the scrimmage; that is the chief thing."

Catherine and Louise were busy preparing supper. Duchêne came up from the cellar with a barrel of wine on his shoulder. He set it down, and knocked out the bung; and each partisan presented his flask or cup to be filled with the purple liquid which glittered in the firelight.

"Eat and drink," said the old dame to them: "all is not lost yet; you will have need of your strength again. Here, Frantz, unhook those hams for me. Here is bread and knives. Sit down, my children."

Frantz reached down the hams in the chimney with his bayonet.

The benches were brought forward; they sat down, and notwithstanding their sorrows, they ate with that vigorous appetite which neither present griefs nor thoughts for the future can make a mountaineer forget. But it did not prevent a bitter sadness from filling the hearts of these brave men; and first one and then another would stop suddenly, letting fall his fork, and leave the table, saying – "I have had enough!"

While the partisans were thus engaged in recruiting their strength, the chiefs were assembled in the next room to make some last resolutions for the defence. They sat round the table, on which was placed a tin lamp: Doctor Lorquin, with his dog Pluto, looking inquiringly into his master's face; Jérome, in the corner of the window to the right; Hullin to the left, very pale; Marc Divès, his elbow on the table and cheek in his hand, and his back turned to the door, showed only his brown profile and the tip of his long mustache. Materne alone remained standing, leaning, as was his custom, against the wall behind Lorquin's chair, with his carbine at his feet. The noise of the men in the kitchen could be distinctly heard.

When Catherine, summoned by Jean-Claude, entered the room, she heard a sort of groan which made her shudder. It was Hullin who was speaking.

"All these brave lads – all these fathers of families, who fell one after the other," he cried, in a heartrending voice, "do you think I did not feel it? Do you think that I would not rather a thousand times have been killed myself? You do not know what I have suffered this night! To lose one's life is nothing; but to bear alone the weight of such a responsibility – "

He paused: his trembling lips, the tear which trickled slowly down his cheek, his attitude, all showed the scruples of the worthy man, in face of one of those situations where conscience itself hesitates and seeks further support. Catherine went and sat down quietly in the big arm-chair. A few seconds later Hullin continued in a calmer tone: – "Between eleven o'clock and midnight, Zimmer came up, shouting, 'We are turned! The Germans are coming down the Grosmann! Labarbe is crushed! Jérome can hold out no longer!' What was to be done! Could I beat a retreat? Could I abandon a position which had cost us so much blood – the road to the Donon, the road to Paris? If I had done so, should I not have been a coward? But I had only three hundred men against four thousand at Grandfontaine, and I know not how many descending from the mountain! Well, I decided at any cost to hold it; it was our duty. I said to myself, 'Life is nothing without honor! We will all die; but they shall not say that we have yielded the high-road to France. No, no; they shall not say that.'"

At this moment Hullin's voice faltered, and his eyes filled with tears, as he continued – "We held out; my brave children held out till two o'clock. I saw them fall: they fell shouting, 'Vive la France!' I had warned Piorette in the beginning of the action. He came up quickly, with fifty stout men. It was too late. The enemy poured in on every side; they held three parts of the plain, and forced us back among the pine-forests on the Blanru side; their fire burst upon us. All I could do was to assemble my wounded, those who could still drag along, and put them under Piorette's escort; a hundred of my men joined him. For myself, I only kept fifty to occupy the Falkenstein. We had to pass right through the Germans, who wanted to cut off our retreat. Happily, the night was dark; had it not been for that, not one of us would have escaped. That is how we are situated. All is lost! The Falkenstein alone remains ours, and we are reduced to three hundred men. Now the question is, shall we go on to the end? I have already told you that I dread to bear alone such a responsibility. So long as it concerned defending the road to the Donon, there was no doubt about it: every man belongs to his country. But this road is lost. We should need ten thousand men to retake it; and at this very moment the enemy is entering Lorraine. Come, what is to be done?"

"We must go on to the end," said Jérome.

"Yes, yes!" cried the others.

"Is that your opinion, Catherine?"

"Certainly," exclaimed the old dame, whose features expressed an inflexible tenacity.

Then Hullin, in a firmer tone, explained his plan: – "The Falkenstein is our point of retreat. It is our arsenal; it is there that we have our ammunition; the enemy knows it; he will attempt an attack on that side, therefore all of us here present must make an effort to defend it, so that the whole country may see us and say, 'Catherine Lefèvre, Jérome, Materne and his boys, Hullin, and Doctor Lorquin are there. They will not lay down their arms.' This idea will give fresh courage to all manly hearts. Besides, Piorette will remain in the woods; his troops will grow more numerous day by day: the country will be filled with Cossacks and marauders of every description; when the enemy's army shall have entered Lorraine I will signal to Piorette; he will throw himself between the Donon and the highway, so that all the laggers behind scattered over the mountains will be caught as in a trap. We shall also be able to profit by favorable chances to carry off the convoys of the Germans, to harass their reserves, and, if fortune aids us, as we must hope it will, and all these 'kaiserlichs' are beaten in Lorraine by our army, then we can cut off their retreat."

Everybody got up, and Hullin going into the kitchen, pronounced this simple address to the mountaineers: – "My friends, we have decided that we must push our resistance to the end. Nevertheless, every one is free to do as he likes; to lay down his arms and return to his village; but let those who wish to revenge themselves join us; they will share our last morsel of bread and our last cartridge."

Colon, the old wood-floater, arose and said, "Hullin, we are all with thee; we began to fight together, and so will we finish."

"Yes, yes!" they all shouted.

"Have you all decided? Well, listen. Jérome's brother will take the command."

"My brother is dead," interrupted Jérome; "he lies on the slopes of the Grosmann."

There was a moment's pause; then in a loud voice Hullin continued: "Colon, thou wilt take the command of all those that remain, with the exception of the men who formed Catherine Lefèvre's escort, and whom I shall keep with me. Thou wilt go and rejoin Piorette in the valley of Blanru, passing by the 'Two Rivers.'"

"And the ammunition?" said Marc Divès.

"I have brought up my wagon-load," said Jérome; "Colon can use it."

"Let the dray be loaded," said Catherine; "the Cossacks are coming, and will pillage everything. Our men must not leave empty-handed; let them take away the cows, oxen, and calves – everything: it will be so much gained on the enemy."

Five minutes later the farm was being ransacked; the dray was loaded with hams, smoked meats, and bread; the cattle were led out of the stables, the horses harnessed to the great wagon, and soon the convoy began its march, Robin at the head, blowing on his horn, with the partisans behind pushing at the wheels. When it had disappeared in the road, and silence had succeeded to all the noise, Catherine turning round, beheld Hullin behind her.

"Well, Catherine," said he, "all is finished! We are now going to make our way up there."

Frantz, Kasper, and those of the escort, with Marc Divès and Materne, all armed, were waiting in the kitchen.

"Duchêne," said the good woman, "go down to the village; you must not be ill-treated by the enemy on my account."

The old servant shook his white head, and, with his eyes full of tears, replied: – "I may as well die here, Madame Lefèvre. It is nearly fifty years since I came to the farm. Do not make me leave; it would be the death of me."

"Do as you like, my poor Duchêne," replied Catherine, softly; "here are the keys of the house."

And the poor old man sat down in the chimney-corner, on a settee, with fixed eyes and half-open mouth, as though lost in some painful reverie.

Then began the journey to the Falkenstein. Marc Divès, on horseback, sword in hand, formed the rear-guard. Frantz and Hullin watched the plateau to the left; Kasper and Jérome the valley to the right: Materne and the men of the escort surrounded the women. It was a singular sight. Before the cottages of the village of Charmes, on the door-steps, at the windows and loopholes, appeared the faces of young and old, looking at the flight of Mother Lefèvre; nor did their evil tongues spare her: – "Ah! they are turned out at last," cried some; "another time, do not meddle with what does not concern you."

Others reflected with a loud voice, that Catherine had been rich long enough, and that every one should have his turn at poverty. As for the industry, wisdom, kind-heartedness, and all the virtues of the old farm-wife, or Jean-Claude's patriotism, or the courage of Jérome and the three Maternes, the disinterested motives of Doctor Lorquin or Marc Divès's self-sacrifice, nobody ever mentioned them; for were they not vanquished?

CHAPTER XXII

ON THE FALKENSTEIN

At the end of the valley of Bouleaux, two gun-shots from the village of Charmes, to the left, the little troop began slowly to ascend the path to the old "burg." Hullin, remembering how he had taken the same road when he went to buy powder of Marc Divès, could not help feeling very sad. Then, notwithstanding his journey to Phalsbourg, the spectacle of the wounded from Leipzig and Hanau, and the account given by the old sergeant, he did not despair or doubt of the success of the defence. Now all was lost; the enemy were descending into Lorraine, and the mountaineers were retreating. Marc Divès rode by the side of the wall in the snow; his horse, apparently accustomed to this journey, neighed loudly. The smuggler turned from time to time to look back on the plateau of Bois-de-Chênes. Suddenly he exclaimed, "Look! here come the Cossacks!"

They all halted to look. They were already high up on the mountain, above the village and farm of Bois-de-Chênes. The morning mists were giving way to the gray light of the winter's day, and, on the hill-side could be distinguished the forms of several Cossacks, with their heads raised, and pistols pointed, stealthily approaching the old farm-house. They were scattered after the manner of sharpshooters, as if they feared a surprise. A few minutes later more appeared, ascending the valley of Houx, then still more, all in the same attitude, upright in their stirrups, in order to see as far as possible. The first, having passed by the farm and observing nothing threatening, waved their lances and returned half way back. Whereupon the others galloped up at full speed like a flock of crows when they have sighted their prey. In a few minutes the farm was surrounded and the door opened. In another moment the windows were smashed, and the furniture, mattresses, and linen, thrown outside. Catherine calmly looked on at the pillage. She said nothing for some time; but, on seeing Yégof, whom she had not perceived before, strike Duchêne with the butt-end of his lance, and push him out of the farm, she could not restrain a cry of indignation.

"The wretch! Could any one be cowardly enough to strike a poor old man unable to defend himself. Ah! brigand, if I only held thee!"

"Come along, Catherine," said Jean-Claude; "that's enough; what is the use of gazing at such a spectacle any longer?"

"You are right," said the old mistress; "let us go on, or I shall be tempted to go back and revenge myself."

On approaching the red rocks, incrusted with large white and black pebbles, overhanging the precipice like the arches of an immense cathedral, Louise and Catherine stopped in ecstasy. The magnificent view of the streams of Lorraine, and the blue ribbon of the Rhine to their right, with the distant woods and valleys, filled them with joy, and the old dame said piously, "Jean-Claude, He who created these rocks, and formed these valleys, forests, heaths, and mosses, He will render to us the justice we merit."

As they were gazing thus on the rugged precipices, Marc led his horse into a cavern close by, and, returning, began to climb up before them, saying, "Take care, or you may slip!"

At the same time he pointed to the blue precipice on their right, with pine-trees at the bottom. Everybody then relapsed into silence till the terrace was reached, where the arch commenced. There they breathed more freely. In the middle of the passage were the smugglers Brenn, Pfeifer, and Joubac, with their long gray mantles and black hats, sitting round a fire. Marc Divès said to them, "Here we are! The 'kaiserlichs' are masters. Zimmer was killed last night. Is Hexe-Baizel up there?"

"Yes," replied Brenn; "she is making cartridges."

"They may be of use," said Marc. "Keep your eyes open, and if any come up fire on them."

The Maternes halted at the corner of the rock; and these three sturdy men, with their powerful muscular limbs, their hats pushed back, and carbines on their shoulders, offered a curious spectacle in the blue mists of the abyss. Old Materne was pointing with outstretched hand to a small white speck in the distance, almost hidden in the midst of the pines. "Do you recognize that, my boys?" said he; and they all three peered through their half-closed eyes.