Chapter XXII.

At the bottom of the valley of Bouleaux, two musket-shots from the village of Charmes, the little troop began slowly to ascend the path leading to the ancient _burg_. Hullin, remembering how he had taken the same path when he had gone to buy powder of Marc-Dives, could not repress his grief. Then, notwithstanding his visit to Phalsbourg, the sight of the wounded from Hanan and Leipsic, the story of the old sergeant, he despaired not; he kept all his energy alive, and never doubted the success of the defence. But now all was lost; the enemy were descending upon Lorraine, and the mountaineers flying. Marc-Dives rode along the wall in the snow; his great horse, accustomed to the journey, neighing, lifting his head and then dropping it beneath his chest. The smuggler turned from time to time to throw a glance at the opposite field of Bois-de-Chênes. Suddenly he cried:

"Ha! the Cossacks are showing themselves."

At this exclamation the entire party halted to look around. They were already high above the village, and even the farm. The gray winter dawn was scattering the morning vapors, and in the hollows of the mountain side they saw a number of those wild horsemen, pistol in hand, slowly approaching the old house. They were separated like skirmishers, and seemed to fear a surprise. A few moments after, others followed from the valley of Houx, then others, and still others, all alike standing up in their stirrups to see further. The first, passing the farm-house and seeing nothing to fear, flourished their lances and turned half-way round. The rest came up at a gallop, like rooks following one of their number that rises in the air as if perceiving some prey. In a few seconds the farm was surrounded, and the door pushed open. Another minute and the windows flew out, shattered to pieces; furniture, mattresses, linen followed from every side of the house at once. Catherine, with lips pressed tightly together, gazed calmly at all this destruction. For a long while she said nothing; but suddenly seeing Yegof strike Duchene with the shaft of his lance, and drive him from the house, she could not restrain a cry of indignation.

"The wretch! coward! to strike a poor old man who can no longer defend himself. Ah villain! if I had thee here!"

"Come, Catherine," said Jean-Claude; "we have seen enough, and the sight does us no good."

"You are right," she replied; "let us go. I cannot bear it."

As they ascended, the air grew keener. Louise, the child of the gypsies, with a little basket of provisions on her arm, clambered at the head of the troops. The blue sky, the plains of Alsace and Lorraine, and at the verge of the horizon those of Champagne, the boundless immensity of space wherein sight was lost, inspired an enthusiasm in all. They seemed to have wings, to pierce the blue air like those great birds that glided from the tree tops over the abysses, uttering their free and fearless cries. All the wretchedness of the world beneath, its injustice and its suffering, were forgotten. Louise saw herself a child on the back of her mother--that poor wandering gypsy--and thought, "I have never since been happier; never had less of care; never laughed so much, sang so gayly, and yet we often lacked bread. Ah! those dear days gone!" And the words of old songs rang in her ears.

As they neared the great red rock, crusted with its white and black stones, and hanging over the precipice like the tower of some grand cathedral, Louise and Catherine paused in ecstasy. {752} Above, the sky seemed yet deeper; the path cut in the rock yet narrower. The valleys stretching on till lost in distance, the boundless woods, the far-off lakes of Lorraine, the blue ribbon of the Rhine--all the glorious scene filled them with emotion, and the old woman said thoughtfully:

"Jean-Claude, He who lifted this rock to heaven, whose hand hollowed these valleys, who scattered these forests, those thickets, and even these little mosses upon his earth, will surely render us what we deserve."

While they gazed thus, standing upon the forest terrace of rock, Marc had led his horse to a neighboring cavern, and returned on foot, saying, as he climbed before them.

"Be careful; you may slip."

At the same time he showed them, to the right, the blue precipice, with the tops of the fir-trees so far down that they seemed at its base. All were silent until they reached the terrace where the vault began. Then they breathed more freely, and saw in the middle of the passage the smugglers Brenn, Pfeifer, and Toubac, with their great grey cloaks and black slouched hats, seated by a fire which stretched all along the rock. Marc accosted them:

"Here we are! the Kaiserliks are victorious. Zimmer was killed last night. Is Hexe-Baizel above?"

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

"They may save us yet," said Marc. "Keep your eyes open, and if any one ascends, fire on him."

The Maternes halted at the edge of the rock, and the three tall men, with their hat-brims turned up, their powder-horns at their sides, their rifles on their shoulders, and their muscular limbs, and feet firmly planted on the point of the rock, stood, a strange group, against the blue of the abyss. Old Materne, with outstretched arm, pointed far, very far away, to an almost imperceptible white spot among the firs, saying:

"Do you recognize that, my boys?"

And all three gazed with half-closed eyes.

"It is our house," replied Kasper.

"Poor Magredel!" said the old hunter; "how uneasy she must have been for the last week; how often has she prayed for us!"

Marc-Dives, who led the party, uttered a cry of surprise.

"Mother Lefevre," said he, stopping short, "the Cossacks have set fire to your house!"

Catherine heard this news calmly, and walked to the edge of the cliff. Louise and Jean-Claude followed her. At the bottom of the abyss stretched a great white cloud, through which shone what seemed like a spark. That was all; but from time to time the breeze blew aside the smoke and the fire appeared; the two high gables, standing darkly out from the flames, the ruined barn and the blazing stables; then all again was hidden.

"It is nearly finished," said Hullin in a low tone.

"Yes," replied the old mistress of the burning dwelling; "forty years of toil and care are there turning to smoke. But no matter; they cannot burn my good lands--my fine meadows of the Eichmath. We will begin to labor once more; Gaspard and Louise will restore all that mischief. I am content. I repent of nothing I have done."

At the end of a quarter of an hour, millions of sparks arose, and all the buildings fell--all save the dark gables. The party again clambered up the path; and as they reached the highest terrace, the sharp voice of Hexe-Baizel was heard:

{753}

"You, Catherine!" she cried "I never thought that you would come to see me in my poor den."

Baizel and Catherine Lefevre had been school-girls together; there was but little ceremony between them.

"Nor I," replied the latter; "but in misfortune one is glad to find a companion of one's childhood."

Baizel seemed touched.

"Whatever is here is yours, Catherine," she cried. "Everything."

She pointed to her poor stool, her broom of green twigs, and the five or six logs on her hearth. Catherine gazed on all in silence for a few moments, and then said:

"They are not very grand, but they are substantial, and the Cossacks will not easily burn your house."

"No, they will not burn it," laughed Hexe-Baizel; "they would need all the trees in the county of Dabo to only warm the walls. Ha, ha, ha!"

The partisans, after many toils and dangers, felt the want of repose. Each man hastened to place his musket against the wall and stretch himself on the floor. Marc-Dives opened the door of the inner cavern for them, where they were at least sheltered, and then sallied forth with Hullin to examine the position.