CHAPTER VIII.

From midnight until six o'clock in the morning, a bright flame shone through the darkness on the summit of the Falkenstein, and the whole mountain was astir.

All the friends of Hullin, of Marc Dives, and of Dame Lefevre, their legs encased in long gaiters, their old guns slung over their shoulders, were silently marching through the woods in the deep stillness of the night towards the gorges of the Valtin. The thought of the enemy crossing the plains of Alsace to come and surprise the dwellers in the defiles and mountains was uppermost in the minds of all. The tocsins of Dagsburg, of Abreschwiller, of Walsch, of Saint-Quirin, and of all the other villages, never ceased summoning the defenders of their country to arms.

You must now picture to yourself the Jaegerthal at the foot of the old _burg_ during the period of an extraordinary fall of snow, at that early hour of the morning when the tall shadows of the trees begin to be visible through the gloom, and the piercing cold of the night is lessened at the approach of dawn. You must picture to yourself the old saw-works, with its broad flat roof, its heavy wheel loaded with icicles, the low interior dimly lit up by a fire of fir-logs, whose glow is beginning to pale in the faint but clear light of early morning; and all around this fire is a confused jumble of seal-skin caps, felt hats, dark profiles towering one above the other, and pressed close together like a living wall. Farther on, the whole length of the woods, in all the windings of the valley, other beacon-fires lighted up, in their crimson glow, groups of men and women huddling together in the snow.

The agitation was beginning to grow calmer. As the daylight grew stronger and stronger, people began to recognise each other.

"Holloa! cousin Daniel of Soldatenthal! you are here too, then?"

"Why, yes, as you see, Heinrich, and my wife, too."

"What, Cousin Nanette! Why, where is she, then?"

"Down below there, near the great oak, by Uncle Hans's fire."

There were hearty hand-shakings everywhere. Some were giving vent to long and loud yawns, while others again were engaged in throwing sticks and logs of wood on the fire. Some were handing flasks about to each other, while others were drawing back from the circle round the fire to make room for their neighbours, who were shivering with the cold. But in spite of these various means of passing the time, signs of impatience began to show themselves among the crowd.

"But, I say," exclaimed one, "we didn't come here to warm the soles of our feet, did we? It's time to look about, to understand each other."

"Yes, yes," was the general response; "let us come to an understanding; let us appoint our leaders."

"No! everyone is not here yet. Look; there are some from Dagsburg and St. Quirin arriving now."

In fact, as the day grew lighter, it served to show more and more people arriving by all the different paths of the mountain. There were then already several hundred men in the valley: woodcutters, charcoal burners, watermen, without reckoning the women and children.

Nothing more picturesque can be imagined than this halt in the midst of the snow, in the deep defiles, surrounded by tall pines towering to the skies; to the right, valleys linked with each other, stretching away far out of sight; to the left, the cloud-capp'd ruins of Falkenstein. At a distance, they might have been taken for large flocks of cranes herding together for comfort, 'mid the snow and ice; but, on a nearer view, you could then behold these rough men, with beards bristling like the skin of the wild boar, stern eyes, broad square shoulders, and horny hands. Some among them, taller than the rest, belonged to that fiery red race with white skins, hairy to the very finger-ends, and strong enough to uproot oaks. Of this number were Materne of Hengst, and his two sons Frantz and Kasper. These stalwart fellows, all three armed with long carbines, from Inspruck, wearing long gaiters of blue cloth, with leather buttons, reaching high above the knee, a sort of tunic made of goat-skin, and their hats pushed to the very back of the head, had not even deigned to approach the fire. For the last hour they had been sitting together on the trunk of a felled tree by the river's edge, with watchful eye and keen scent, like hunters lying in ambush, with their feet on the snow.

From time to time the old man would say to his sons: "What are they shivering about, down there? I never knew a milder night for the season. It's like a spring night; the rivers are not even touched by the frost!"

All the forest-rangers of the country round, as they passed, gave them a hearty shake of the hand, and then closed in around them, so that they formed, in a manner, a band apart. These people spoke but little, being used to keeping silence for whole days and nights together, for fear of frightening the game.

Marc Dives, standing in the midst of another group, over which he towered by a whole head, was talking and gesticulating, and pointing sometimes to one point of the mountain, and sometimes to another. Opposite him stood the old shepherd, Lagarmitte, in his long grey smock, his wooden sheep-horn on his shoulder, listening open-mouthed, and from time to time silently bowing his grizzled head. For the most part, all the band seemed attentive; it was principally composed of woodcutters and bargemen, with whom the smuggler was almost daily brought into contact. Between the sawpit and the first fire was seated the shoemaker, Jerome of Saint-Quirin, a man of about fifty or sixty, with a long face, brown complexion, hollow eyes, big nose, a seal-skin cap pulled over his ears, and his yellow beard descending in a point to his waist. His hands, covered with thick woollen gloves, were leaning on an enormous knotted stick. He wore a long hooded cloak of coarse cloth, and might well have passed for a hermit. Any time a fresh rumour arose in some part or another, old Jerome turned his head slowly round, and listened intently with knitted brows.

Jean Labarbe, with his elbow on his axe, sat passively looking on. He was a man with pale cheeks, aquiline nose, and thin lips. He had great influence over the men of Dagsburg, owing to his firmness and strength of mind. When everyone was shouting around him:

"We must deliberate; we can't stay doing nothing here!" he simply confined himself to saying: "Stop, Hullin has not come yet, nor Catherine Lefevre." Then all were silent, and contented themselves with looking eagerly towards the path leading from the Charmes.

The _segare_,[8] Piorette, a little dry, lean, nervous man with black eyebrows meeting in front, the stump of a pipe between his lips, stood in front of his shed, watching, with an eye at once keen and thoughtful, the strange scene around him.

The general impatience was, however, increasing from minute to minute. Some village mayors, in square-cut coats and three-cornered hats, proceeded towards the sawpit, and called upon the men of their districts to deliberate. Very luckily, the cart of Catherine Lefevre at length appeared in sight coming along the pathway, and immediately a thousand enthusiastic shouts rose on all sides.

"Here they are! here they are! they have come!"

There was a great stir and bustle among the crowd. The groups who were at a distance drew near, everyone came running up, and a sort of shudder of impatience seemed to run through the whole vast assembly. No sooner was a distinct view caught of the old farm-mistress, whip in hand, sitting on her truss of straw with Louise by her side, than cries and shouts rent the air of "Vive la France! Hurrah for Dame Catherine!"

A little way behind came Hullin, striding along across the meadow of the Eichmath, distributing hearty hand-grips, his broad-brimmed hat at the back of his head, his gun slung over his shoulder.

"Good day, Daniel. Good day, Colon. Good day, good day."

"Ah! ha! it's growing warm, Hullin."

"Yes, yes; we shall hear the chestnuts burst in the fire this winter. Good day, old Jerome; we are engaged in a great enterprise now."

"True, Jean-Claude. We must hope to accomplish it, with the blessing of God."

Catherine, as soon as she reached the sawpit, then told Labarbe to deposit on the ground a little keg of brandy which she had brought from the farm, and to borrow a jug from the sawyer in the shed.

A little while after, Hullin, coming up to the fire, met Materne and his two sons.

"You are late," said the old huntsman to him.

"Well, yes; what would you have? First, we had to descend from the Falkenstein, take our guns, and get the women-kind in marching order. However, here we are at last, so don't let us lose any more time. Give us a blast of your horn, Lagarmitte, to call all the people together. The first thing of all is to lay our plans, to appoint our leaders."

In an instant, Lagarmitte was blowing away at his long horn, with his cheeks inflated to his very ears, and the bands of men, who were still dispersed along the footpaths, and on the outskirts of the woods, hastened their steps to arrive in time. In a short time all the brave fellows were assembled in front of the sawpit.

Hullin, now grave and stern, mounted a heap of trunks of trees, and casting a look of serious meaning on the crowd that surrounded him, said, in the midst of the deepest silence:--"The enemy crossed the Rhine the evening before last; he is now marching over the mountains to enter Lorraine; Strasbourg and Huningen are in a state of blockade. We must expect to see the Germans and the Russians in three or four days."

There was a general ringing cry of "Vive la France!"

"Yes, Vive la France!" replied Jean-Claude; "for if the Allies enter Paris, they will be masters of everything. They may, if they please, re-establish tithes, taxes, convents, privileges, and gibbets. If you wish to see all this again, you have only to let them pass by."

Words cannot describe the gloomy rage depicted in every countenance at these words.

"That is what I had to say to you," cried Hullin, sternly, and pale as death. "You are here, and you are here to fight."

"Yes, yes."

"That is well; but listen to me. I do not wish to take you unawares. There are fathers of families among you. We shall be one against ten, against fifty. We must expect to perish. Therefore, let such as have not well reflected on the matter, as have not the heart and the courage to do their duty to the very end, depart. We will have none of them. Everyone is free."

Then he was silent, and looked on all around him Everyone stood still and motionless; so, with a still firmer voice, he continued:--"No one stirs. All, all are resolved to fight to the last. Well, it delights me to see that there is not a single dastard among us. Now we must appoint a leader. In great perils, the first thing is order, discipline. The leader whom you will appoint will have all the rights of command and of obedience. So, reflect well, for on this man will depend the fate of all."

Having thus spoken, Jean-Claude descended from his elevation, and all was bustle and excitement. Each village deliberated separately, each mayor proposed his man, and in the meanwhile time was going on. Catherine Lefevre was burning with impatience. At length, unable to contain herself any longer, she stood up on her seat, and made a sign that she wished to speak.

Catherine was held in the highest estimation. At first some, then a greater number, drew near to learn what she had to say to them.

"My friends," said she, "we are losing too much time. What is it you require? A trusty leader, is it not? A soldier, who has been used to war, and who knows how to turn our positions to the best account? Well, then, why do you not choose Hullin? Is there one among you who can find a better man? If so, let him speak at once, that we may decide. For my part, I propose Jean-Claude Hullin. Do you hear, down below there? If this goes on much longer, the Austrians will be here before we have chosen a leader."

"Yes! yes! Hullin!" exclaimed Labarbe, Dives, Jerome, and several others.

"Come, let us collect the votes for or against."

Then Marc Dives, climbing on to the trunks of timber, exclaimed, in a voice of thunder, "Let those who do not desire to have Jean-Claude Hullin for a leader hold up their hand."

Not a hand appeared.

"Let those who desire to have Jean-Claude Hullin for a leader hold up their hand."

Every hand was in the air.

"Jean-Claude," said the smuggler, "come up here, and look around. It is you whom they demand for a leader."

Master Jean-Claude, having done as desired, saw that he was appointed, and at once spoke in a firm tone, and said:--"Good. You appoint me your leader. I accept the post. Let the elder Materne, Labarbe of Dagsburg, Jerome of Saint-Quirin, Marc Dives, Piorette the sawyer, and Catherine Lefevre, go into the sawpit. We will hold a council. In a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes I will issue orders. Meanwhile, let each village supply two men to Marc Dives for the transport of powder and ball to Falkenstein."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 8: Sawyer.]