CHAPTER XXI
"ALL IS LOST"
Jerome 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 hisstentorian voice.
The sentinels approached to examine them, and then they passed on theirway.
The farm was silent; a sentry, his musket over his arm, was pacingbefore the granary, where about thirty partisans were asleep upon thestraw. At the sight of these great dark roofs, the stables andouthouses belonging to the old building where she had spent her youth,where her father and grandfather had led their tranquil laborious livesin peace, and which she was now about to abandon, perhaps forever,Catherine felt a terrible wrenching at her heart; but no word escapedher. Springing from the sledge, as in other days when she returnedfrom marketing, she said: "Come, Louise, here we are at home, thankGod."
Old Duchene pushed open the door, exclaiming: "Is that you, MadameLefevre?"
"Yes, it is I. Any news from Jean-Claude?"
"No, Madame."
They entered the large kitchen. Some cinders were still smouldering onthe hearth, and in the dark, under the broad chimney, was sittingJerome of St. Quirin, with his big horsehair hood, his great stickbetween his knees, and his carbine leaning against the wall.
"Good-day, Jerome," said the old farm-wife.
"Good-day, Catherine," replied the grave chief of the Grosmann. "Haveyou come from the Donon?"
"Yes: things are going badly, my poor Jerome. The 'kaiserlichs' wereattacking the farm when we left the plateau. Nothing but whiteuniforms was to be seen on every side. They were already beginning tocross 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 Dives bent over thecinders to light his pipe; on rising, he exclaimed: "I ask thee onething only, Jerome; I know beforehand that they fought well under thycommand----"
"We have done our duty," replied the shoemaker. "There are sixty menstretched on the slopes of the Grosmann who will tell you so at thelast day."
"Yes; but who, then, guided the Germans? They could not havediscovered the pass of the Blutfeld by themselves."
"Yegof the madman--Yegof," said Jerome, whose gray eyes, encircled bydeep wrinkles and thick white eyebrows, seemed to sparkle in thedarkness.
"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 unharnessthe horse, opened the door, shouting: "The battle is lost! Here areour 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 seeagain; and from the kitchen and the granary everybody at once rushed onto the "plateau." At the same time Robin and Dubourg, posted assentinels above Bois-de-Chenes, cried out, "Who goes there?"
"France!" replied a voice.
Notwithstanding the distance, Louise, fancying she could recognize herfather's voice, was seized with such a fit of trembling that Catherinewas 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, "PapaJean-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 seethem 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 manywho 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 thedim 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 intosilence. The joy of some, and the consternation of others, produced aterrible sensation. Louise was in Hullin's arms, sobbing bitterly.
"Ah, Jean-Claude," said Mother Lefevre, "you will hear strange thingsabout that child. I will say no more now, but we have beenattacked----"
"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. Duchenehad just thrown a fagot on the fire. All these people, with facesblackened by powder, still animated by the combat, their clothes tornby bayonet-thrusts, some blood-stained, advancing from the darknessinto the light, presented a strange spectacle. Kasper, whose foreheadwas bandaged with his handkerchief, had received a sabre-cut; hisbayonet, buff facings, and high blue gaiters, were stained with blood.Old Materne, thanks to his imperturbable presence of mind, returnedsafe and sound from the fray. The remains of Jerome's and Hullin'stroops were thus once more united. They wore the same wildphysiognomies, animated by the same energy and desire for vengeance.But Hullin's men, harassed by fatigue, sat down right and left, on thefagots, on the stone sink, on the low pavement of the hearth--theirheads in their hands and elbows on their knees; while Jerome's, whocould 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 oflosing one another, and their father, behind them, leaning against thewall, with his elbow on his gun, watched them with an expression ofsatisfaction.
"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 himabout Pierre, Jacques, or Nicolas, his son or his brother, he wouldreply hap-hazard--"Yes, yes, there are several lying down there ontheir backs. What can you expect? It is war! Your Nicolas has donehis duty. You must console yourself." Meanwhile he thought--"Mine areout of the scrimmage; that is the chief thing."
Catherine and Louise were busy preparing supper. Duchene came up fromthe cellar with a barrel of wine on his shoulder. He set it down, andknocked out the bung; and each partisan presented his flask or cup tobe filled with the purple liquid which glittered in the firelight.
"Eat and drink," said the old dame to them: "all is not lost yet; youwill have need of your strength again. Here, Frantz, unhook those hamsfor 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 notwithstandingtheir sorrows, they ate with that vigorous appetite which neitherpresent griefs nor thoughts for the future can make a mountaineerforget. But it did not prevent a bitter sadness from filling thehearts of these brave men; and first one and then another would stopsuddenly, letting fall his fork, and leave the table, saying--"I havehad enough!"
While the partisans were thus engaged in recruiting their strength, thechiefs were assembled in the next room to make some last resolutionsfor the defence. They sat round the table, on which was placed a tinlamp: Doctor Lorquin, with his dog Pluto, looking inquiringly into hismaster's face; Jerome, in the corner of the window to the right; Hullinto the left, very pale; Marc Dives, his elbow on the table and cheek inhis hand, and his back turned to the door, showed only his brownprofile and the tip of his long mustache. Materne alone remainedstanding, leaning, as was his custom, against the wall behind Lorquin'schair, with his carbine at his feet. The noise of the
men in thekitchen could be distinctly heard.
When Catherine, summoned by Jean-Claude, entered the room, she heard asort of groan which made her shudder. It was Hullin who was speaking.
"All these brave lads--all these fathers of families, who fell oneafter the other," he cried, in a heartrending voice, "do you think Idid not feel it? Do you think that I would not rather a thousand timeshave been killed myself? You do not know what I have suffered thisnight! To lose one's life is nothing; but to bear alone the weight ofsuch a responsibility----"
He paused: his trembling lips, the tear which trickled slowly down hischeek, his attitude, all showed the scruples of the worthy man, in faceof one of those situations where conscience itself hesitates and seeksfurther support. Catherine went and sat down quietly in the bigarm-chair. A few seconds later Hullin continued in a calmertone:--"Between eleven o'clock and midnight, Zimmer came up, shouting,'We are turned! The Germans are coming down the Grosmann! Labarbe iscrushed! Jerome can hold out no longer!' What was to be done! CouldI beat a retreat? Could I abandon a position which had cost us so muchblood--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 menagainst four thousand at Grandfontaine, and I know not how manydescending 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! Wewill all die; but they shall not say that we have yielded the high-roadto 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 twoo'clock. I saw them fall: they fell shouting, 'Vive la France!' I hadwarned Piorette in the beginning of the action. He came up quickly,with fifty stout men. It was too late. The enemy poured in on everyside; they held three parts of the plain, and forced us back among thepine-forests on the Blanru side; their fire burst upon us. All I coulddo was to assemble my wounded, those who could still drag along, andput them under Piorette's escort; a hundred of my men joined him. Formyself, I only kept fifty to occupy the Falkenstein. We had to passright 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 haveescaped. That is how we are situated. All is lost! The Falkensteinalone remains ours, and we are reduced to three hundred men. Now thequestion is, shall we go on to the end? I have already told you that Idread to bear alone such a responsibility. So long as it concerneddefending the road to the Donon, there was no doubt about it: every manbelongs to his country. But this road is lost. We should need tenthousand men to retake it; and at this very moment the enemy isentering Lorraine. Come, what is to be done?"
"We must go on to the end," said Jerome.
"Yes, yes!" cried the others.
"Is that your opinion, Catherine?"
"Certainly," exclaimed the old dame, whose features expressed aninflexible tenacity.
Then Hullin, in a firmer tone, explained his plan:--"The Falkenstein isour point of retreat. It is our arsenal; it is there that we have ourammunition; 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, sothat the whole country may see us and say, 'Catherine Lefevre, Jerome,Materne and his boys, Hullin, and Doctor Lorquin are there. They willnot lay down their arms.' This idea will give fresh courage to allmanly hearts. Besides, Piorette will remain in the woods; his troopswill grow more numerous day by day: the country will be filled withCossacks and marauders of every description; when the enemy's armyshall have entered Lorraine I will signal to Piorette; he will throwhimself between the Donon and the highway, so that all the laggersbehind scattered over the mountains will be caught as in a trap. Weshall also be able to profit by favorable chances to carry off theconvoys of the Germans, to harass their reserves, and, if fortune aidsus, as we must hope it will, and all these 'kaiserlichs' are beaten inLorraine by our army, then we can cut off their retreat."
Everybody got up, and Hullin going into the kitchen, pronounced thissimple address to the mountaineers:--"My friends, we have decided thatwe must push our resistance to the end. Nevertheless, every one isfree 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 shareour last morsel of bread and our last cartridge."
Colon, the old wood-floater, arose and said, "Hullin, we are all withthee; we began to fight together, and so will we finish."
"Yes, yes!" they all shouted.
"Have you all decided? Well, listen. Jerome's brother will take thecommand."
"My brother is dead," interrupted Jerome; "he lies on the slopes of theGrosmann."
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 theexception of the men who formed Catherine Lefevre's escort, and whom Ishall keep with me. Thou wilt go and rejoin Piorette in the valley ofBlanru, passing by the 'Two Rivers.'"
"And the ammunition?" said Marc Dives.
"I have brought up my wagon-load," said Jerome; "Colon can use it."
"Let the dray be loaded," said Catherine; "the Cossacks are coming, andwill pillage everything. Our men must not leave empty-handed; let themtake away the cows, oxen, and calves--everything: it will be so muchgained on the enemy."
Five minutes later the farm was being ransacked; the dray was loadedwith hams, smoked meats, and bread; the cattle were led out of thestables, the horses harnessed to the great wagon, and soon the convoybegan its march, Robin at the head, blowing on his horn, with thepartisans behind pushing at the wheels. When it had disappeared in theroad, and silence had succeeded to all the noise, Catherine turninground, beheld Hullin behind her.
"Well, Catherine," said he, "all is finished! We are now going to makeour way up there."
Frantz, Kasper, and those of the escort, with Marc Dives and Materne,all armed, were waiting in the kitchen.
"Duchene," said the good woman, "go down to the village; you must notbe 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 Lefevre. It is nearly fiftyyears since I came to the farm. Do not make me leave; it would be thedeath of me."
"Do as you like, my poor Duchene," replied Catherine, softly; "here arethe keys of the house."
And the poor old man sat down in the chimney-corner, on a settee, withfixed eyes and half-open mouth, as though lost in some painful reverie.
Then began the journey to the Falkenstein. Marc Dives, on horseback,sword in hand, formed the rear-guard. Frantz and Hullin watched theplateau to the left; Kasper and Jerome the valley to the right: Materneand the men of the escort surrounded the women. It was a singularsight. Before the cottages of the village of Charmes, on thedoor-steps, at the windows and loopholes, appeared the faces of youngand old, looking at the flight of Mother Lefevre; nor did their eviltongues 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 longenough, and that every one should have his turn at poverty. As for theindustry, wisdom, kind-heartedness, and all the virtues of the oldfarm-wife, or Jean-Claude's patriotism, or the courage of Jerome andthe three Maternes, the disinterested motives of Doctor Lorquin or MarcDives's self-sacrifice, nobody ever mentioned them; for were they notvanquished?