Chapter XXIV.

Catherine Lefevre came forth from the ruin at about seven o'clock in the morning. Louise and Hexe-Baizel were yet sleeping; but day--the brilliant day of the mountains--already flooded the valleys. Far below, through the blue depths, forests, gorges, rocks, were outlined like the mosses and pebbles of a lake beneath its crystal waters. Not a breath stirred the air, and Catherine, as she surveyed the grandeur of the scene, felt a sense of peaceful calm--of repose, greater even than that of sleep, steal over her. "Our miseries, our unrest, and our sufferings are but of a day," she thought. "Why disturb heaven with our groans? Why dread the future? All these things endure but a moment. Our plaints are as those of a butterfly when the leaves fall; they do not keep winter away. Time must end for all; we must die that we may be born again."

Thus mused the old woman, and she no longer feared what might happen. Suddenly a murmur of voices filled her ears; she turned and saw Hullin with the three smugglers, all earnestly talking, on the opposite side of the plateau. They had not seen her, so deeply did the subject of their conversation interest them.

Old Brenn, at the edge of the rock, with a short, black pipe between his teeth, his cheeks wrinkled like a withered leaf, short nose, grey moustache, bleared eye-lids, half-closed over reddish-brown eyes, and long great-coat sleeves hanging by his sides, gazed at the different points Hullin was showing them among the mountains; and the other two, wrapped in their gray cloaks, stepped forward or backward, shading their eyes with their hands, in deep attention.

Catherine walked toward them, and soon she heard:

"Then you do not think it possible to reach the foot of the mountain?"

"No, Jean-Claude; there is no way of doing so," answered Brenn; "those villains know the country thoroughly, and all the paths are guarded. Look! there is the meadow of Chevreuils along that lake; no one ever even thought of watching it; but see, they are there. And yonder, the pass of Rothstein--a mere goat-path, where a man is scarcely seen once in ten years--you see a bayonet glisten behind the rock, do you not? And there, where I have climbed for eight years with my sacks without ever meeting a gendarme, they hold that too. Some fiend must have shown them the defiles."

"Yes," cried tall Toubac, "the fiend Yegof."

"But," said Hullin, "it seems to me that three or four stout men might carry one of those posts."

"No; they are supported by each other; and the first shot fired would bring a regiment upon us," replied Brenn. "Besides, if we got through, how could we return with provisions? It is impossible!"

There were a few moments of silence.

"Nevertheless," said Toubac, "if Hullin wishes it, we will try all the same."

"Try what?" cried Brenn. "To lose our lives trying to escape, and leave the others in the toils? But it is all the same to me; if the others go, I will. But as for talking about returning with provisions, I say it is impossible. Which path will you take going, and which returning? Promises will not do here; we must act up to them. If you know a way, tell us. For twenty years I have beaten the mountain with Marc. I know every path and pass for ten leagues around; but I see none open now except through the air."

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Hullin turned, and saw Mother Lefevre a few paces away, listening attentively.

"You here, Catherine!" he exclaimed. "Our affairs wear an ugly look."

"Yes; I understand. There is no way of getting a supply of provisions."

"Provisions!" said Brenn, with a strange smile. "Do you know, Mother Lefevre, for how long we are supplied?"

"For a fortnight, at least," replied Catherine.

"For a week," said the smuggler, shaking out the ashes of his pipe on his nail.

"It is true," said Hullin. "Marc-Dives and I believed that an attack would be made on Falkenstein; we never thought the enemy would besiege it like a fortress. We were mistaken."

"And what is to be done?" asked Catherine, growing pale.

"We must reduce each one's ration to half. If Marc does not return in a fortnight, we shall have no more. Then, indeed, we must see what is to be done."

So saying, Hullin with Catherine and the smugglers, their heads drooping, took the path to the notch. They reached the descent, when, thirty feet beneath them, they saw Materne climbing breathlessly among the stones, and dragging himself along by the bushes to increase his speed.

"Well," cried Jean-Claude, "what has happened?"

"Ah! there you are. I was going to look for you. One of the enemy's officers is coming along the wall of the old _burg_, with a little white flag. He seems to desire a parley."

Hullin, directing his steps toward the slope of the rock, saw, indeed, a German officer standing upon the wall, seemingly awaiting a sign to ascend. He was two musket-shots off, and further away were five or six soldiers, resting on their arms.

After gazing a moment at the group, Jean-Claude turned, saying:

"It is a flag of truce coming to summon us to surrender."

"Fire on him!" cried Catherine; "we have no other answer."

The others all seemed inclined to do so, save Hullin, who, without speaking, descended to the terrace, where the rest of the partisans were gathered.

"My friends," said he, "the enemy sends a flag of truce. We know not what he wants. I suppose it is a summons to lay down our arms; but it may be something else. Frantz and Kasper will go to meet him. They will bandage his eyes at the foot of the rock, and lead him hither."

No one having any objection to make, the sons of Materne slung their carbines on their backs and departed. At the end of about ten minutes the two tall hunters reached the officer; there was a rapid conference between them, after which all three began to climb to Falkenstein. As they ascended, the uniform of the German officer, and even his features, could be clearly seen. He was a lean man, with ashy flaxen hair, tall, well knit, and resolute in movement and appearance. At the foot of the rock Frantz and Kasper bandaged his eyes, and soon their steps were heard beneath the vault. Jean-Claude went to meet them, and himself untied the handkerchief, saying:

"You wish to communicate with me, sir. I am listening."

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The partisans stood some fifteen paces off. Catherine Lefevre, nearer, knitted her brows; her bony figure, long, hooked nose, the three or four locks of gray hair which fell by chance upon her hollow temples, and down on her wrinkled cheeks, her tightly pressed lips, and fixed gaze, seemed first to attract the officer's attention; then the pale and gentle face of Louise behind her; then Jerome, with his long, yellow beard and cloak; and old Materne leaning on his short rifle. He looked at the others, and at the high, red vault, with its colossal mass of granite hanging over the precipice, and covered only with a few brambles. Hexe-Baizel, behind Materne, her long broom of twigs in her hands, her outstretched neck and feet, on the very, edge of the rock, seemed to astonish him.

He himself was the object of much attention. His attitude and bearing, long face, finely-cut bronzed features, clear gray eye and thin mustache, the delicacy of his limbs, hardened by the toils of war, all bespoke aristocratic lineage; and he had, too, a look of shrewdness mingled with that of the man of the world, the soldier, and the diplomatist.

But this mutual inspection was only the work of an instant. The officer began, in good French:

"Is it the Commandant Hullin that I have the honor of addressing?"

"Yes, sir," replied Jean-Claude.

The officer glanced hesitatingly at the circle around.

"Speak out, sir," cried Hullin; "let all hear you. Where honor and our country are the subject, no one in France is out of place; our women understand the words as well as we. You have some propositions to offer me. In the first place, on behalf of whom?"

"Of the general commanding-in-chief. Here is my commission."

"Very good. We are listening, sir."

Then the officer, raising his voice, proceeded in a firm tone:

"Before I begin, commandant, permit me to say that you have performed your duty magnificently; you have forced your foes to admire you."

"As for duty," answered Hullin, "we merely did what we could."

"Yes," added Catherine, in short, dry tones; "and since our foes admire us on that account, they will admire us much more in a week or two, for the war is not yet ended. Marc is to come!"

The officer turned his head toward her, and stood as if stupefied at the savage earnestness imprinted upon the old woman's features.

"Those are noble sentiments," said he, after a few moments' silence; "but humanity has its rights, and to spill blood uselessly is only doing evil for the sake of evil."

"Then why do you come to our country?" cried Catherine, and her voice seemed like the eagle's shriek. "Begone, and let us alone!"

Then she added:

"You make war like robbers: you steal, pillage, burn. You all deserve to be hanged. We ought to throw you over the rock, for the sake of the example."

The officer turned pale, for the old woman seemed ready to execute her threat; but he soon recovered himself, and continued calmly:

"I know that the Cossacks set fire to the farm-house opposite this rock. They are pillagers such as follow all armies, and this one act proves nothing against the discipline of our troops. The French soldiery often did the same in Germany, and particularly in the Tyrol; and, not satisfied with robbing and burning the villages, they shot pitilessly all the mountaineers suspected of having taken up arms to defend their homes. {759} We might make reprisals. It is our right to do so; but we are not barbarians; we understand that patriotism is grand and noble, even when wrongly directed. Besides, we do not make war on the French people, but on the Emperor Napoleon. Therefore, our general, on learning of the conduct of the Cossacks, publicly punished that act of vandalism, and moreover, decided that the proprietor should be indemnified."

"I ask no indemnity of you," interrupted Catherine rudely. "I wish to live with my wrong, and to avenge it!"

The officer saw the hopelessness of trying to bring the old woman to terms, and that it was, besides, dangerous to reply. He turned, therefore, to Hullin, and said:

"I am charged, commandant, to offer you the honors of war, if you consent to surrender your position. You have no provisions, as we are well aware. A few days from now, you will be compelled to lay down your arms. The esteem the general bears you alone impelled him to offer you these honorable conditions. Longer resistance is useless. We are masters of Donon; our _corps d'armée_ is passing into Lorraine. The campaign will not be decided here; so that you have no interest in defending a useless position. We wish to spare you the horrors of famine upon this rock. Decide, commandant."

Hullin turned to the partisans, and said simply,

"You have heard. I refuse the conditions; but I will submit, if all accept the enemy's propositions."

"We all refuse them," cried Jerome.

"Yes; all, all!" repeated the others.

Catherine Lefevre, till then so stern, happened to glance at Louise, and then her firmness gave way. She took her by the arm, and leading her to the officer, said:

"We have a child among us; is there no means of sending her to one of her friends in Laverne?"

Louise had scarce heard the words when, throwing herself in Hullin's arms, she cried affrightedly,

"No, no! I will stay with you, Father Jean-Claude! I will die with you!"

"Go, sir," said Hullin, with bloodless lips, "tell your general what you have seen; tell him that Falkenstein we will hold to the death! Kasper, Frantz, lead back the officer."

The last seemed to hesitate; but as he was about to speak, Catherine, pale with wrath, cried,

"Go, go! You are not yet so sure of us as you think. It is the villain Yegof who told you we had no provisions; we have enough for two months, and in two months our army will have swept you from the earth. Traitors will not always flourish, and then woe to you!"

As she grew more and more excited, the officer judged it prudent to withdraw. He returned to his guides, who again put on the bandage, and led him to the foot of Falkenstein.

Hullin's orders regarding the provisions were carried out the same day; each one received a half-ration. A sentry was posted in front of Hexe-Baizel's cavern, where the food was kept, and the door barricaded. Jean-Claude ordered the distributions to be made in presence of all, to avoid injustice; but all these precautions did not save the unhappy patriots from the worst horrors of famine.

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