CHAPTER XXIV
A FLAG OF TRUCE
Catherine Lefevre came out of the ancient ruin about seven in themorning; Louise and Hexe-Baizel were still asleep; but broad daylight,the clear light of the high regions, was already penetrating theabysses. In the depths, through the azure, the woods, valleys, androcks could be clearly traced, like the mosses and pebbles of a lakebeneath the blue crystal water. Not a breath disturbed the air; andCatherine, gazing over this grand spectacle, felt a calmness andtranquillity beyond even that which comes of sleep. "What are ourmiseries of a day," thought she, "our uneasinesses and our sufferings?Why pester heaven with our moans? why fear the future? All this lastsbut a second; our sighs are of no more avail than the chirp of thegrasshopper in autumn; and do its cries prevent winter from coming?Must not time pursue its course, and everything die to be renewed?"
Thus thought the old dame, and she had no longer any fears for thefuture. She had been thus musing for a few instants, when suddenly ahum of voices struck her ears: she turned, and saw Hullin with thethree smugglers, talking seriously together on the other side of theplateau. They were engaged in a grave discussion, and had not noticedher. Catherine approached closer to them, and heard the followingconversation:--
"Then you do not think it possible for any one to get down either side?"
"No, Jean-Claude, it is quite impossible," replied Brenn; "thosebrigands know the country thoroughly well: all the paths are guarded.Hold, look along the paths of that stream: we never dreamt of observingit even; well! they are defending that now. And over there, on thepassage of the Rothstein, a path only for a goat, which is not troddenonce in ten years--thou canst see a bayonet sparkle behind the rock,canst thou not? And that nearer path along which I have slipped withmy bags for these eight years past without meeting a single gendarme,they occupy that also: the devil certainly must have showed them allthe defiles."
"Yes," exclaimed Joubac, "if the devil has nothing to do with it, atleast Yegof has!"
"But," continued Hullin, "it seems to me that three or four men might,if they liked, push through one of those posts."
"No, those posts lean one on the other; at the first shot one wouldhave a whole regiment upon one's shoulders," replied Brenn. "Besides,supposing one had the luck to get through, how could one return withprovisions? My opinion is, that it is impossible."
There was a pause.
"After that," said Joubac, "if Hullin likes we will try all the same."
"We will try what?" said Brenn. "To break our legs in escapingourselves, and leave the others in the trap. I don't mind; if anyothers go, I will too. But as for pretending to return withprovisions, it is impossible. Come, Joubac, by which way art thougoing, and by which way wilt thou return? If thou knowest of apassage, tell me. For twenty years I have scoured the mountain withMarc. I know all the paths and roads ten leagues round, and I see noother way but through the sky!"
Hullin turned round at that moment and saw Mother Lefevre, closebehind, listening attentively.
"What! were you there, Catherine?" said he. "Our affairs are taking abad turn."
"Yes, I heard; there is no means of renewing our provisions."
"Our provisions!" said Brenn with a queer laugh. "Are you aware,Mother Lefevre, for how long we have them?"
"Why, for a fortnight," replied the old dame.
"For a week," said the smuggler, shaking out the ashes from his pipe.
"It is true," said Hullin, "Marc Dives and myself thought they wouldattack the Falkenstein; we never imagined the enemy would blockade itlike a fortress. We have been deceived!"
"And what is to be done?" said Catherine, turning pale.
"We are going to put everybody on half rations. If, in a fortnight,Marc does not return we shall have nothing left--then we shall see."
So saying, Hullin, Catherine, and the smugglers, with bowed heads, tookthe path to the breach again. As they were coming down the slope,thirty feet below them they perceived Materne. He was climbingbreathlessly among the ruins, and clutched hold of the bushes to helphim along faster.
"Well," shouted Jean-Claude to him; "what is the matter, old fellow?"
"Ah! there thou art. I was coming to find thee; one of the enemy'sofficers has come forward on the wall of the old 'burg' with a littlewhite flag; he looks as though he had something to say to us."
Hullin advanced immediately to the edge of the rock, and saw a Germanofficer standing on the wall, and awaiting a signal to mount. He wasabout two gun-shots distant; farther behind five or six soldiers werestationed with their arms shouldered. After having inspected thisgroup, Jean-Claude turned and said: "It is a flag of truce. He comesno doubt to summon us to surrender."
"Fire upon them!" cried Catherine; "it is all we have to say."
All the others appeared of the same advice, excepting Hullin, who,without making any reply descended to the terrace, where the rest ofthe partisans were assembled.
"My children," said he, "the enemy sends us a flag of truce. We do notknow what he wants of us. I suppose it is to order us to lay down ourarms; but it may possibly be something else. Frantz and Kasper will goto meet him; they must blindfold the officer and lead him here."
No objection being made, Materne's sons shouldered their carbines andwalked away under the lofty arch. About ten minutes later, the twored-haired hunters reached the officer; there was a rapid conferencebetween them, after which all three began to climb to the Falkenstein.By degrees, as the party ascended, the uniform of the officer and hisface could be distinguished: he was a thin man, with light brown hair,well made, and determined-looking. At the foot of the rock Frantz andKasper blindfolded him, and soon the sound of their steps under thearch could be heard.
Jean-Claude going toward them, himself unbound the handkerchief,saying, "You desire to communicate something to me, sir; I amlistening."
The partisans stood about fifteen paces away. Catherine Lefevre, theforemost among them, frowned; her bony, angular face, long beaked nose,her three or four tresses of gray hair, falling down over her templesand hollow cheek-bones, her compressed lips, and the fixity of hergaze, appeared at first to rivet the attention of the German officer.Next to her stood Louise, with her sweet pale face. Jerome, with hislong tawny beard, draped in his horse-hair tunic, and Materne, leaningon his short carbine, and the others around him completed the group.
The officer himself was the object of particular attention. One couldsee in him, his attitude, fine sunburnt features, clear gray eyes,handsome mustache, in the elegance of his limbs, hardened by the laborsof war, a member of an aristocratic race: he combined the old soldierand the man of the world, the warrior and the diplomatist.
This reciprocal inspection being finished, the bearer of the flag oftruce said, in good French, "I have the honor of addressing theCommandant Hullin?"
"Yes, sir," replied Jean-Claude.
And seeing the other gazing hesitatingly around the circle, hecontinued, "Speak loud, sir, so that everybody may hear you. Whenhonor and the country are in question all are concerned in France; thewomen are interested as well as ourselves. Have you any proposition tomake me, and from whom?"
"From the General Commander-in-chief. Here is my commission."
"Good; we are listening to you, sir."
Then the officer, raising his voice, said in a resolute tone: "Permitme first, commandant, to remark that you have fulfilled your dutysplendidly: you have called forth the esteem of your enemies."
"In the matter of duty," replied Hullin, "we have all done our best."
"Yes," added Catherine, dryly, "and since our enemies esteem us on thataccount, well, they will esteem us still more in eight or fifteen days,for we have not reached the end of the war yet. You will live to seemore of us."
The officer turned his head, and looked with astonishment at the savageenergy in the old woman's face.
"They are noble sentiments," he retorted, after an instant's silence:"but humanity has its righ
ts, and to squander blood uselessly isreturning evil for evil."
"Then why do you come into our country?" cried Catherine sharply. "Goaway, and we will let you alone. You make war like brigands: yousteal, pillage, and burn. You all deserve to be hanged. And to set agood example, you personally ought to be hurled over that rock."
The officer turned pale, for the old woman seemed quite capable ofcarrying out her threat; however he soon regained his composure, andreplied calmly: "I am aware that the Cossacks have set fire to the farmin front of this rock. They are pillagers, such as are to be found inthe rear of every army, and this isolated act proves nothing againstthe discipline of our troops. The French soldiers did the same inGermany, and particularly in the Tyrol; not content with pillaging andburning the villages, they mercilessly shot all mountaineers suspectedof having taken up arms for the defence of their country. We mightmake reprisals, and should be justified in doing so; but we are notbarbarians, we can understand that patriotism is noble and grand, evenin its most ill-advised acts. Besides, we are not making war on theFrench people, but on the Emperor Napoleon. And the general, onlearning the conduct of the Cossacks, has publicly punished this act ofVandalism; more, he has decided that an indemnity shall be accorded tothe proprietor of the farm."
"I will not receive anything from you," Catherine hastily interrupted;"I will keep my injustice and revenge myself."
The officer understanding by the accent of the old woman's voice thathe could make no impression upon her, and feeling that it was evendangerous for him to reply, turned toward Hullin, and said: "I amordered, commandant, to offer you the honors of war if you will consentto give up this position. You have no provisions, we know that. In afew days you will be obliged to lay down your arms. The esteem feltfor you by our general has alone caused him to make you honorableconditions. A longer resistance would be useless. We are masters ofthe Donon, our battalions are entering Lorraine; the campaign will notbe concluded here, therefore you have no interest in defending such aposition. We wish to spare you the horrors of famine on this barrenrock. Come, commandant, decide."
Hullin turned toward the partisans and said to them: "You have heard?I refuse; but I will submit if everybody accepts the propositions ofthe enemy."
"We refuse, all of us," said Jerome.
"Yes, all," replied the others.
Catherine Lefevre, who had looked inflexible till then, regarded Louiseand seemed touched; she took her by the arm, and turning toward theofficer, said to him: "We have a child with us; is there no means bywhich we could send her to one of our relations at Saverne?"
Hardly had Louise heard these words, than throwing herself intoHullin's arms with fear, she cried out: "No, no, I will remain withyou, Papa Jean-Claude; I will die with you."
"Well," said Hullin; "go tell your general what you have seen: tell himthat the Falkenstein will be ours till death! Kasper, Frantz,reconduct the truce-bearer."
The officer appeared to hesitate, but as he opened his mouth to speak,Catherine, pale with rage, exclaimed, "Begone! you have not yet gainedall the advantages you think. It is that brigand Yegof who has toldyou that we have no provisions; but we have for two months, and by thattime our army will have exterminated you all. Traitors will not alwayshave the best of it: bad luck to you."
Seeing she was becoming more and more excited, the officer thought itbest to take his departure: he turned to his guides, who put thebandages over his eyes, and conducted him to the foot of theFalkenstein.
The instructions which Hullin had given concerning the provisions wereexecuted on the same day, and each received his half ration. A sentrywas placed before Hexe-Baizel's cavern, where the food was kept; thedoor was barricaded, and Jean-Claude decided that the distributionsshould be made in the presence of all, so as to prevent any injustice;but all these precautions were destined to fail in preserving theunfortunate people from the horrors of famine.