CHAPTER XV
THE BATTLE RENEWED
The mountaineers were almost beside themselves with enthusiasm: theylifted their hands and bepraised one another, as if they were the creamof mankind.
Catherine, Louise, Doctor Lorquin and all the others came out of thefarm, cheering and congratulating each other, gazing at the marks ofthe bullets and at the bank blackened with powder; then at JosephLarnette stretched in his hole, having his head smashed; at Baumgarten,who, with his arm hanging down, walked in great pallor toward theambulance; and then at Daniel Spitz, who, in spite of his sabre-cut,wanted to stay and fight; but the doctor would not hear of it, andforced him to enter the farm.
Louise came up with the little cart, and poured out brandy for thecombatants; while Catherine Lefevre, standing at the edge of thesloping bank, watched the dead and wounded scattered over the road, andled up to by long lines of blood. There were both young and old amongthem, with faces white as wax, wide-opened eyes, and outstretched arms.Some few tried to raise themselves, but no sooner had they done so thanthey fell back again; others looked up as though they were afraid ofreceiving some more bullets, and dragged themselves along the bank inorder to get under shelter.
Many of them seemed resigned to their fate, and were looking for aplace to die, or else watching their retreating regiment on its way toFramont--that regiment with which they had quitted their homes, withwhich they had made a long campaign, and which was now abandoning them!"It will see old Germany again!" they thought. "And when some one asksthe captain or the sergeant, 'Did you know such a one--Hans, Kasper,Nickel, of the 1st or of the 2d company?' they will reply, 'Ah! Ithink so. Had he not a scar on the ear, or on the cheek? fair or darkhair? five feet six in height? Yes, I know him. He was buried inFrance, near a little village whose name I do not remember. Somemountaineers killed him the same day big Major Yeri-Peter was killed.He was a fine fellow!' And then it is, 'Good-day to you.'"
Perhaps, too, there were some of them who dreamed of their mother, orof a pretty girl left behind them, Gretchen or Lotchen, who had given,them a ribbon, and shed hot tears when they left: "I will await thyreturn, Kasper. I will only marry thee! Yes, yes, thou wilt have towait long!"
It was not pleasant to think of.
Madame Lefevre, seeing this, thought of Gaspard. Hullin, who came upwith Lagarmitte, cried out in a joyous tone, "Well, my boys, you havebeen under fire. Bravo! everything goes well. The Germans will haveno occasion to boast of this day."
Then he embraced Louise, and hurried up to Catherine.
"Are you satisfied, Catherine? There! our success is certain. Butwhat is the matter? You do not smile."
"Yes, Jean-Claude, all goes well. I am satisfied. But look down atthe road. What a butchery!"
"It is only what happens in war," replied Hullin, gravely.
"Could we not go and help that little fellow down there, who watches uswith his large blue eyes? He makes me feel so sad. Or that tall, darkman, who is binding his leg with his handkerchief?"
"Impossible, Catherine. I am very sorry. We should have to cut stepsin the ice to get down, and the Germans, who will be back in an hour ortwo, would take advantage of them. Let us go. The victory must beannounced in all the villages--to Labarbe, Jerome, and Piorette. Ho!Simon, Niklo, Marchal, come here. You will have to set outimmediately, and carry the great tidings to our comrades. Materne,keep thy eyes open, and warn me at the slightest movement."
They approached the farm, and, as he passed, Jean-Claude took a look atthe reserve, Marc Dives being on horseback surrounded by his men. Thesmuggler complained bitterly of being left with nothing to do, as ifhis honor were tarnished thereby.
"Bah!" said Hullin, "so much the better! Besides, thou keepest guardover our right. Look at that flat ground down there. If we areattacked from that point, thou wilt have to march!"
Dives made no answer; he looked both sad and indignant, nor did hisstalwart smugglers, wrapped in their cloaks, their long swords hangingby their sides, seem at all in a better humor; one might have said thatthey were meditating some revenge.
Hullin, not succeeding in consoling them, entered the farm-house.Doctor Lorquin was extracting the ball from Baumgarten's wound, who wasmaking terrible cries.
Pelsly, on the doorstep, was trembling all over. Jean-Claude asked himfor paper and ink, in order to transmit his orders through themountain; but the poor anabaptist could hardly give them to him, sogreat was his trouble. However, he succeeded at last, and themessengers departed, proud of being charged to announce the firstbattle and victory.
A few mountaineers were in the large room, warming themselves at theoven and talking animatedly. Daniel Spitz had already undergoneamputation of his two fingers, and sat behind the stove with his handbound up.
Those who had been posted behind the abatis before daybreak, not havingbreakfasted, were now eating a crust of bread and drinking a glass ofwine, shouting, gesticulating, and making great bravado meanwhile.Then they went out, looked at the intrenchments, came back to warmthemselves again, and laughed fit to split their sides when they spokeof Riffi, and his wails and cries on horseback.
It was eleven o'clock. These incomings and outgoings lasted tilltwelve, when Marc Dives suddenly came into the room, callingout:--"Hullin! Where is Hullin?"
"Here I am."
"Well, then, come!"
The smuggler's tone had something remarkable about it: from being amoment before furious at having taken no part in the fight, he had nowbecome triumphant. Jean-Claude followed him, feeling very uneasy: andthe large room was immediately deserted, everybody being convinced,from Marc's manner, that there was something serious the matter.
To the right of the Donon extends the ravine of Minieres, through whichruns a foaming torrent when the snows melt--descending from the summitof the mountain to the valley.
Exactly in front of the plateau defended by the partisans, and on theother side of this ravine, at a distance of five or six hundred metres,projects a sort of open terrace with rugged sides, which Hullin hadconsidered unnecessary to occupy for the time, wishing not to dividehis forces, and seeing, besides, that it would be easy for him to turnthis position by the pine-clumps, and to establish himself there, ifthe enemy showed any intention to take it.
Now imagine the consternation of the worthy man when, on reaching thedoor of the farm-house, he saw two companies of Germans climbing thisascent, among the gardens of Grandfontaine, having two field-piecesyoked to powerful horses, which appeared to hang over the precipice. Atroop was pushing at the wheels, and in a few seconds the guns wouldhave reached the plateau.
It was like a thunder-bolt for Jean-Claude; he turned pale, and theninto a great passion with Dives.
"Couldst thou not have warned me sooner?" he cried. "Did I not commandthee to watch over the ravine? Our position is turned. They will hemus in, and cut us off from the road farther on. Everything is going tothe deuce."
The people present, and old Materne himself, who had come up in greathaste, were startled by the glance he darted at the smuggler; who,notwithstanding his usual audacity, was quite confused, not knowingwhat to reply.
"Come, come, Jean-Claude," said he at last, "be calm. It is not soserious as thou sayest. We have not fought yet--we others; andbesides, we have no cannons--so it will be the very thing for us."
"Yes, the very thing for us, imbecile! Thy self-love made thee waittill the last minute, did it not? Thou wert too eager to fight, andhave an opportunity for boasting and making bravado; and for that thoudidst not hesitate to risk all our lives. Look! there are other troopsbeing got ready at Framont."
In fact, another column, much stronger than the first, was just thenmarching out of Framont at the charge, and advancing against thebreastworks. Dives did not say a word. Hullin controlled his anger,and became suddenly calm in the presence of danger.
"Go back to your posts," he said briefly to those around him. "Let allbe ready for the coming attack.
Materne, listen!"
The old hunter inclined his head. Meanwhile, Marc Dives had recoveredhis self-possession.
"Instead of screaming like a woman," said he, "thou wouldst do betterto give me orders to attack down there, by turning the ravine at thepine-clumps."
"Then do it!" replied Jean-Claude; and in a calmer tone: "Listen, Marc!I am very angry with thee. We were conquerors; and by thy fault thebattle has to be fought over again. If thou failest in thy attack, allis lost for us."
"Good! good! The affair is altogether mine: I will answer for it."
Then, springing on his horse, and throwing the end of his mantle overhis shoulder, he drew his long blade with a defiant air. His men didthe same.
He then turned to the reserve, composed of five hundred mountaineers,and showing the plateau to them with the point of his sword, said,"Look there, my men! we must carry that position. The men of Dagsburgmust not say that they are braver than the men of the Sarre. Forward!"And, full of ardor, they advanced, skirting the ravine. Hullin shoutedto them--"At the point of your bayonets!"
The big smuggler, on his great sleek roan, turned round, laughing outof the corners of his mustache, and waved his sword in a significantway; then the whole body dashed into the pine-wood.
At the same time the Germans, with their eight-pounders, had gained theplateau, and were putting them in position, while the column fromFramont was ascending the hill-side. Thus everything was in the samecondition as before the battle,--with this difference, that theenemies' bullets would now come into play and take the mountaineers inthe rear.
One could see distinctly the two field-pieces with their cramp-irons,levers, sponges, artillerymen, and the officer commanding, a greatlanky fellow, with broad shoulders and fair mustaches floating in thewind. The blue shades of the valley seeming to diminish the distance,they looked as though you might have touched them; but Hullin andMaterne were not to be deceived; it was a good six hundred metresacross. No carbine could reach so far. Nevertheless, the old hunter,before returning to the abatis, wished to have his mind set quite atrest. He advanced as close as possible to the ravine, followed byhis-son Kasper and a few mountaineers; and, leaning against a tree, heraised his gun deliberately and took aim at the tall officer with thefair mustaches. All those about him held their breath for fear ofbalking the attempt.
Materne fired, but when he laid down his weapon to see what hadoccurred, no change had taken place.
"It is astonishing how age weakens the sight," he said.
"Your weakened sight!" cried Kasper. "There is not a man from theVosges to Switzerland who can boast of hitting his mark at two hundredmetres like you!"
The old hunter knew well it was the case, but he did not wish todiscourage the others.
"Well," he replied, "we have no time for disputing. Here is the enemyagain; let each do his duty." Although these words seemed simple andcalm enough, Materne was very much troubled in reality. On enteringthe trench confused sounds met his ear--the clattering of arms and theregular tramp of many feet. He looked down over the steep bank, andnow saw the Germans, who this time carried long ladders with hooks atthe end.
It was not a pleasant sight for the brave fellow: he made a sign to hisson to approach, and said to him, in a low voice, "Kasper, that looksbad--very bad; the rascals are coming with ladders. Give me thy hand!I should like to have thee near me, and Frantz as well; but we mustdefend ourselves with steadiness."
At this moment a great explosion shook the abatis, and a hoarse voicewas heard crying out, "Ah, my God!" Then a hundred paces distant therewas a heavy sound, and a fine tree bent down slowly and fell into theabyss. It was the first cannon-ball: it had cut off old Rochart'slegs. It was followed by another immediately after, which covered allthe mountaineers with broken ice, and made a great rumbling. OldMaterne himself had bent down under the force of the explosion, butraising himself quickly, he shouted, "Let us revenge ourselves, mychildren. They are before you. To conquer or die!"
Fortunately the panic of the mountaineers only lasted a second: theyall understood that the slightest hesitation and they were lost. Twoladders had already been raised, notwithstanding the fusillade, andwere being attached to the bank by their iron hooks. This sight madethe partisans furious, and the fight became more terrible and desperatethan before.
Hullin had noticed the ladders before Materne had, and his wrathagainst Dives increased; but as in such a case indignation is of noavail, he had sent Lagarmitte to tell Frantz Materne, who had beenposted on the other side of the Donon, to come to him quickly with halfhis men. We may well believe the brave fellow, warned of the dangerhis father was in, lost not a moment. Already their large black hatscould be seen climbing the hill-side amid the snows, their carbinesslung across their shoulders. They came with all despatch,nevertheless Jean-Claude met them, with a haggard expression in hiseyes, and shouted in a vibrating voice, "Come quicker! at that rate youwill never reach us."
He was in a towering passion, and attributed all the misfortune to thesmuggler.
Meanwhile Marc Dives, in about half an hour, had gone round the ravine,and, from the back of his tall horse, began to perceive the twocompanies of Germans, with grounded arms, about a hundred feet behindthe guns, which were being fired upon the trench. Then, approachingthe mountaineers, he said to them, in a stifled voice, while thereports of the cannon were re-echoed in the gorge and in the distancethe noise of battle was heard: "Comrades, you must attack the infantrywith your bayonets: I and my men will be answerable for the rest. Isit understood?"
"Yes, it is understood."
"Then, forward!"
The whole troop advanced in good order toward the outskirts of thewood, big Piercy of Soldatenthal at their head. Nearly at the sameinstant the _Wer da?_ ("Who there?") of a sentinel was heard; then twoshots; a loud cry of "Vive la France!" and the trampling of many feetin a charge. The brave mountaineers threw themselves like wolves onthe enemy.
Dives stood up in his stirrups and watched them with great glee. "Thatis well," said he.
The _melee_ was a terrible one; the ground trembled with it. TheGermans were firing no more than the partisans: the affair was passingin silence; the clashing of bayonets and the sound of sabre-strokes,with here and there a rifle-shot, shouts of anger and a great tumult:except these, one could hear nothing else. The smugglers, withoutstretched necks and sword in hand, sniffed the carnage and awaitedthe signal from their chief with impatience.
"Now, it is our turn," said Dives, at length. "The guns must be ours."
And out of the underwood they sprang, and their large cloaks flyingbehind them like wings, they dashed forward, bending in their saddlesand pointing their swords.
"Never mind cutting! Run them through!" cried Dives once more.
That was all he said.
In a second, the twelve vultures were down upon the guns. Among theirnumber were four old Spanish dragoons and two cuirassiers of the guard,whom a life of danger had attached to Marc: so I leave you to imaginehow they fought. Blows from lever, rammer, and sabre, the only armsthe gunners had to hand, rained upon them like hail; they parried themall, and every cut they made brought down a man.
Marc Dives received two pistol-shots, of which one singed his leftcheek and the other carried away his hat. But, at the same time,bending over his saddle, his long arms stretched out, he transfixed thebig officer with the fair mustaches to his gun; then raising himselfdeliberately, and gazing round him with a frown, said, in a sententiousmanner: "We have cleared out the rubbish! the guns are ours."
To get a good idea of this terrible scene, you must imagine the crowdon the plateau of Minieres. The cries, the neighings of horses, theflight of some, who threw down their arms in order to run the faster,the desperation of others;--beyond the ravine, the ladders covered withwhite uniforms and bristling with bayonets; the mountaineers above theescarpment defending themselves with obstinacy; the hill-sides, theroad, and, above all, the space outside the bre
astworks, encumberedwith dead and wounded;--the great numbers of the enemy, their musketsover their shoulders and their officers in the midst of them, pressingforward into action; and, finally, Materne standing on the crest of thehill, his bayonet in the air, his mouth opened wide, shouting wildly tohis son Frantz, who was advancing with his troop, Master Jean-Claude attheir head, to aid the mountaineers. You should have heard thefusillade, the platoon and file firing, and, above all, the distantconfused shouts, intermixed with sharp wails dying away among themountain echoes. To gain a good idea of the scene, you should imagineall these as concentrated into one moment and surveyed with a rapidglance.
But Dives was not of a contemplative turn: he lost no time in makingpoetical reflections on the uproar and savagery of the battle. Withone look he had taken in the whole situation; so, springing from hishorse, he went up to the first gun, which was still loaded, aimed it atthe ladders, and fired.
Then there arose wild clamors, and the smuggler, peering through thesmoke, saw that fearful havoc had been made in the enemy's ranks. Hewaved his hands in sign of triumph, and the mountaineers on thebreastworks answered with a general hurrah.
"Now then, dismount," said he to his men, "and don't go to sleep. Acartridge, a ball, and some turf. We will sweep the road. Look out!"
The smugglers put themselves in position, and continued to fire withenthusiasm upon the white coats. The bullets rained into their ranks.At the tenth discharge there was a general _sauve-qui-peut_.
"Fire! fire!" shouted Marc.
And the partisans, now supported by Frantz's troop, regained, underHullin's directions, the positions which they had for the moment lost.
The whole of the hill-side was soon covered with dead and wounded. Itwas then four in the evening; night was approaching. The last ballfell into the street of Grandfontaine, and rebounding on the angle ofthe pavement, knocked down the chimney of the "Red Ox."
About six hundred men perished that day: there were, of course, manymountaineers among them, but the greater number were "kaiserlichs."Had it not been for the fire of Marc Dives's cannon, all would havebeen lost; the partisans were not one against ten, and the enemy hadalready begun to gain on the trenches.