The Invasion of France in 1814

And, indeed, everything seemed to justify her fears: the mountaineers, inferior in numbers, were giving way. The Cossacks had cleared the wall, and were already on the footpath. A well-aimed thrust passed through the old dame's back-hair, and she felt the cold iron against her neck.

"Oh, the murderers!" she screamed, falling back and clutching fast at the reins.

Doctor Lorquin himself had been hurled against the sledge. Frantz and the others, surrounded by twenty Cossacks, could afford them no help. Louise felt a hand on her shoulder: it was the hand of the madman, seated on his great horse.

At this fearful moment, the poor child, mad with terror, uttered a scream of distress; then she saw something gleaming in the darkness: it was Lorquin's pistols. Quick as lightning, tearing them from the doctor's belt, she fired them off both at once, singeing Yégof's beard, and blowing out the brains of a Cossack who was bending toward her with flaming eyes. She then seized Catherine's whip, and pale as death, lashed the horse, who bounded away. The sledge flew through the bushes, swaying from right to left. Suddenly there was a shock. Catherine, Louise, the straw, and all rolled in the snow on the slopes of the ravine. The horse stopped short on its haunches, its mouth full of bloody foam. It had struck against an oak-tree.

Rapid as was the fall, Louise had seen figures passing like the wind behind the underwood. She had heard a powerful voice, that of Divès, crying out, "Forward! Cut them down!"

It was like a vision – one of those confused apparitions which pass before the eyes in moments of supreme danger; but, on rising, the young girl had no longer any doubts. Fighting was going on only a few paces distant behind the cover of some trees, and the voice of Marc was heard shouting, "Go it, my old fellows! Give them no quarter!"

Then she saw a dozen Cossacks clambering up the hill in front, like hares among the heather; below Yégof was crossing the valley in the moonlight with the speed of a terrified bird on the wing. Several shots were sent after him, but the madman remained unscathed, and, standing upright in his stirrups, with his horse at full gallop, he turned, waving his lance with bravado, and shouting "Hourah!" Two more shots whizzed by from the guard-house; a bit of rag fell from his loins, but the madman continued his course, crying "Hourah!" in a hoarse tone, and toiled up the path which his companions had taken before him.

All this passed before Louise like a dream.

Then, turning round, she saw Catherine by her side, stupefied and absorbed like herself. They gazed at each other for a moment, and then embraced with an inexpressible feeling of happiness.

"We are saved!" murmured Catherine; and they both wept. "Thou hast behaved bravely. Jean-Claude, Gaspard, and I have good reason to be proud of thee!"

Louise was deeply agitated and trembled all over. The danger being passed, her gentle nature again resumed its sway, and she could not understand whence came her courage of a few minutes before.

They were recovering from their fright and about to get into the sledge, when they saw five or six partisans with the doctor coming toward them.

"Ah! you may cry as much as you like, Louise," said Lorquin; "but, for all that, you are a regular dragoon, a real little warrior. Though you now look so gentle, we have all seen you at work. But where are my pistols?"

At that moment the shrubs were pushed aside, and Marc Divès, sword in hand, appeared.

"Ah, Mistress Catherine, these are rough adventures for you. Zounds! what luck that I happened to come up. Those villains were spoiling you right and left."

"Yes," replied she, pushing her hair under her cap again; "it was very fortunate."

"Very fortunate! I should think so. It is only ten minutes since I arrived with my wagon at Cuny's. 'Do not go to the Donon,' said he; 'the sky has been red for an hour in that direction; there is certainly fighting going on up there.' 'You think so?' 'Faith! yes.' 'Then Joson must go out and reconnoitre a little and we others will drink a glass while waiting.' 'Good!' Hardly had Joson left, when I heard shouts as though five hundred devils were let loose. 'What is it, Cuny?' 'I don't know.' We pushed open the door, and saw the fray. Ha!" exclaimed the big smuggler, "we did not wait long. I jumped on my brave horse Fox, and dashed forward. What luck!"

"Ah!" said Catherine, "if we were only sure that our affairs go as well on the Donon, we might then rejoice."

"Yes, yes! Frantz told me about that: – it is the devil – there must always be something wrong," replied Marc. "But – but why stay here with our feet in the snow? Let us hope that Piorette will not allow his comrades to be crushed, and let us go and empty our glasses, which we left half full."

Four other smugglers then arrived, saying that that rascally Yégof would probably come back, with some more brigands like himself.

"Very likely," replied Divès. "We will return to the Falkenstein, since it is Jean-Claude's orders; but we can't bring our wagon with us: it would prevent our taking the short cuts; and in an hour all these bandits would be down upon us. Let us go first to Cuny's. Catherine and Louise will not be sorry to drink a little wine; and the others too. It will put their hearts in the right place again. Up, Bruno!"

He led his horse by the bridle. Two wounded men had been laid in the sledge; two others having been killed, as well as seven or eight Cossacks stretched with their boots wide apart in the snow, were abandoned, and they went on toward the forester's house.

Frantz was consoling himself for not having been on the Donon: he had finished two Cossacks, and the sight of the inn made him feel in a good humor. Before the door stood the small wagon full of cartridges. Cuny came out, saying: "A hearty welcome, Mistress Lefèvre. What a night for women! Be seated! What is going on up there?"

While they were hastily drinking some wine, everything had to be explained over again. The worthy old man in a blouse and green breeches, with his wrinkled face, bald head, and wide-open eyes, listened with clasped hands, exclaiming: "Good God! Good God! in what times are we living? One can no longer follow the high-roads without risk of being attacked. It is worse than the old Swedish tales." And he shook his head.

"Come," said Divès, "time flies. We must continue our way."

Everybody being ready, the smugglers led the wagon, which contained some thousands of cartridges and two small kegs of brandy, about three hundred yards off, to the middle of the valley, and then unharnessed the horses.

"Go forward!" shouted Marc; "we will rejoin you in a few minutes."

"But what art thou going to do with the cart?" said Frantz. "Since we have no time to take it to the Falkenstein, it had better be left under Cuny's shed than in the road."

"Yes, to get the poor old man hanged, when the Cossacks arrive, for they will be here in less than an hour. Do not trouble thyself; I have my own idea."

Frantz rejoined the sledge, which went on its way. In a short time they passed by the saw-works of the Marquis and turned sharp to the right, to reach the farm of Bois-de-Chênes, whose tall chimneys could be perceived three-quarters of a league distant on the plateau. They were on the hill-side when Marc Divès and his men overtook them, shouting:

"Halt! Stop a bit! Look down there!"

And, looking down into the gorge, they saw the Cossacks capering round the wagon – about three hundred of them.

"They are coming! Let us fly!" cried Louise.

"Wait a bit," said the smuggler. "We have nothing to fear."

He was still speaking, when an immense sheet of flame sped out from one mountain to the other, illuminating the woods, rocks, and the little house of the forester fifteen hundred yards below; then there was a report so terrible that the earth seemed to tremble.

While those near him gazed in bewilderment and dumb terror at each other, Marc's bursts of laughter reached their ears, in spite of the din.

"Ha, ha, ha!" shouted he, "I was sure the rogues would stop round the wagon, to drink up my brandy. I knew the match would have just time to reach the powder!"

"Do you think they will pursue us?"

"Their arms and legs are now hanging from the branches of the pine-trees! Come along! And may heaven grant the same fate to all those who have now crossed the Rhine!"

The whole escort, the partisans, the doctor, all had grown silent: so many terrible emotions had filled them with endless thoughts such as do not fall within the experience of every-day life. They said to themselves: "What are men that they destroy, harass, and ruin each other in this manner? Why do they hate each other so? And what spirit of evil is it that thus excites them?"

But Divès and his men were not at all troubled by these events: they galloped along, laughing and boasting.

"For my part," said the big smuggler, "I never saw such a farce before. Ha, ha, ha! if I lived a thousand years, I should laugh at it still." Then he became more serious, and exclaimed: "All the same, Yégof is the cause of this. One must be blind not to see that it was he who led the Germans to the Blutfeld. I shall be sorry if he has been struck down by a piece of my wagon; I have something better in store for him than that. All that I wish is that he may keep in good health till we meet somewhere in a lonely corner of the wood. It is no matter whether it be in one year, ten years, twenty years, provided only that we meet. The longer it is deferred, the more savage my determination becomes: the daintiest morsels are eaten cold, like a boar's head in white wine."

He said this with an air of good-humor, but those who knew him perceived beneath it a serious danger for Yégof.

Half an hour later, they all reached the plateau on which the farm of Bois-de-Chênes was situated.

CHAPTER XXI
"ALL IS LOST"

Jérome of St. Quirin had managed to make good his retreat to the farm, and since midnight he had occupied the plateau.

"Who goes there?" cried his sentinels as the escort approached.

"It is we, from the village of Charmes," shouted Marc, in his stentorian voice.

The sentinels approached to examine them, and then they passed on their way.

The farm was silent; a sentry, his musket over his arm, was pacing before the granary, where about thirty partisans were asleep upon the straw. At the sight of these great dark roofs, the stables and outhouses belonging to the old building where she had spent her youth, where her father and grandfather had led their tranquil laborious lives in peace, and which she was now about to abandon, perhaps forever, Catherine felt a terrible wrenching at her heart; but no word escaped her. Springing from the sledge, as in other days when she returned from marketing, she said: "Come, Louise, here we are at home, thank God."

Old Duchêne pushed open the door, exclaiming: "Is that you, Madame Lefèvre?"

"Yes, it is I. Any news from Jean-Claude?"

"No, Madame."

They entered the large kitchen. Some cinders were still smouldering on the hearth, and in the dark, under the broad chimney, was sitting Jérome of St. Quirin, with his big horsehair hood, his great stick between his knees, and his carbine leaning against the wall.

"Good-day, Jérome," said the old farm-wife.

"Good-day, Catherine," replied the grave chief of the Grosmann. "Have you come from the Donon?"

"Yes: things are going badly, my poor Jérome. The 'kaiserlichs' were attacking the farm when we left the plateau. Nothing but white uniforms was to be seen on every side. They were already beginning to cross the breastworks."

"Then you think Hullin will be compelled to abandon the road?"

"Possibly, if Piorette does not come to his assistance."

The partisans had approached near the fire. Marc Divès bent over the cinders to light his pipe; on rising, he exclaimed: "I ask thee one thing only, Jérome; I know beforehand that they fought well under thy command – "

"We have done our duty," replied the shoemaker. "There are sixty men stretched on the slopes of the Grosmann who will tell you so at the last day."

"Yes; but who, then, guided the Germans? They could not have discovered the pass of the Blutfeld by themselves."

"Yégof the madman – Yégof," said Jérome, whose gray eyes, encircled by deep wrinkles and thick white eyebrows, seemed to sparkle in the darkness.

"Ah! art thou certain of it?"

"Labarbe's men saw him climbing up; he led the others."

The partisans looked at each other with indignation.

At this moment Doctor Lorquin, who had remained outside to unharness the horse, opened the door, shouting: "The battle is lost! Here are our men from the Donon. I have just heard Lagarmitte's horn."

It is easy to imagine the emotion of the recipients of these tidings. Each thought of the relations and friends that he might never see again; and from the kitchen and the granary everybody at once rushed on to the "plateau." At the same time Robin and Dubourg, posted as sentinels above Bois-de-Chênes, cried out, "Who goes there?"

"France!" replied a voice.

Notwithstanding the distance, Louise, fancying she could recognize her father's voice, was seized with such a fit of trembling that Catherine was compelled to support her.

Just then the noise of many footsteps resounded over the hardened snow, and Louise, unable to contain herself any longer, exclaimed, "Papa Jean-Claude!"

"I am coming," replied Hullin, "I am coming."

"My father?" exclaimed Frantz Materne, rushing to meet Jean-Claude.

"He is with us, Frantz."

"And Kasper?"

"He has received a slight scratch, but it is nothing. Thou wilt see them both again."

Catherine threw herself into Jean-Claude's arms.

"Oh, Jean-Claude, what joy to behold you once more!"

"Yes," replied the worthy man, in a suppressed voice, "there are many who will never see their friends again."

"Frantz," said old Materne, "here, this way!"

And one could only see, on all sides, people seeking each other in the dim light, squeezing hands, and embracing. Some called for, "Niclau! Sapheri!" but many did not answer to their names.

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?