She remained silent a moment, as though to collect her ideas; her eyelids drooped, her great beaked nose seemed to bend down on to her lips, and a strange pallor came over her face.
"What the devil is coming next?" thought Hullin.
The old woman continued: "Yegof near the fire, with his tin crown, and his short stick on his knees, was dreaming of something. He looked at the great black chimney, the stone mantel-piece, which is carved with different figures and trees, and the smoke which went up in great clouds around the sides of bacon: when suddenly he struck with the end of his stick on to the tiles and called out, as though in a dream--"Yes, yes, I have seen that long ago--long ago!" And as we all looked at him speechless--"In those times," he went on to say, "the pine-forests were forests of oak. The Nideck, the Dagsberg, Falkenstein, Geroldseck, all those old ruined castles did not exist.
In those times the bison could be hunted in the depths of the woods, the salmon caught in the Sarre, and you, the fair men, were buried in snow six months of the year. You lived on milk and cheese, for you had many flocks and herds on the Hengst, the Schneeberg, the Grosmann, the Donon. In the summer you hunted: you came down to the Rhine, the Moselle, the Meuse. I can recall it all!"
"And wonderful to relate, Jean-Claude, as the madman spoke, I seemed to see also these countries of years gone by, and to remember them as I should a dream. I had let fall my distaff, and d.u.c.h.ene, Robin, Jeanne--in fact, everybody--listened. "Yes, it was long ago," he continued. "In those days you were already building these great chimneys; and all around, at a distance of two or three hundred yards, you planted palisades fifteen feet high, and with the points hardened by the fire. And inside them you kept your big dogs with their hanging cheeks, who barked day and night."
"We could see what he said, Jean-Claude; we could see it all. But he paid no heed to us: he regarded the figures on the chimney-piece with his mouth open; but, in an instant, having stooped his head and seeing how attentive we all were, he laughed with a wild, mad laughter, and cried out:--"In those days you believed yourselves the lords of the country, O fair men, with your blue eyes and white skins, fed on milk and cheese, and only tasting blood in the autumn, at the great hunts: you believed yourselves the masters of the plains and mountains, when we, the red men, with the green eyes, out of the sea--we who drank always blood and only liked battles--one fine morning we arrived with our axes and spears, and ascended the Sarre under the shadows of the old oaks. Ah! it was a cruel war, which lasted weeks and months. And the old woman--there--" said he, pointing at me, with a singular smile, "the Margareth of the clan of Kilberix, that old woman with her beaked nose, in her palisades, in the midst of her dogs and warriors--she fought like a wolf. But when five moons had pa.s.sed, hunger arrived.
The doors of the palisades opened for flight, and we, in ambush in the stream--we ma.s.sacred all!--all--except the children and the beautiful young girls. The old woman, alone, defended herself to the last with her teeth and nails; and I, Luitprandt, clove her head in two; and I took her father, the aged man and blind, to chain him at the door of my castle like a dog!"
"Then, Hullin," continued the old woman, "the madman began to chant a long song--the lamentation of the old man chained to his doorway. Wait till I can recall it, Jean-Claude. It was mournful--mournful as a _Miserere_. No, I cannot remember it; but I seem still to hear it. It made our blood curdle; and, as he laughed without ceasing, at last all our servants gave a terrible cry, rage seized them. d.u.c.h.ene sprang on the madman to strangle him; but he, with more strength than one could suppose he possessed, threw him back, and raising his stick furiously, said to us:--"On your knees, slaves--on your knees! My armies are advancing! Do you hear? The earth trembles with them. These castles, the Nideck, the Haut-Barr, the Dagsberg, the Turkestein, you shall build them up again! On your knees!"
"I never saw a more fearful face than Yegof"s at that moment; but, seeing for the second time my servants rising against him, I was obliged to defend him myself. "It is a madman," I said to them. "Are you not ashamed to believe in the words of a madman?" They stopped on my account; but I could not close my eyes that night. The words of that wretched man kept recurring to me. I seemed to hear the chant of the old prisoner, the barking of our dogs, and the sounds of battle.
For years I have never felt so uneasy. That is why I came to see you, Jean-Claude. What do you think of it?"
"I?" exclaimed the shoemaker, in whose ruddy face both irony and pity were visible. "If I did not know you so well, Catherine, I should say you were deranged:--you, d.u.c.h.ene, Robin, and the rest of you. All that has about the same effect on me as one of Genevieve de Brabant"s tales--made up to terrify little children, and which shows us how foolish our ancestors were."
"You do not comprehend these things," said she, in a calm, grave voice; "you have never had any of those ideas."
"Then you believe all that Yegof has said to you?"
"Yes, I believe it."
"What, you, Catherine?--you, a sensible woman? If it were the mother of Rochart I should say nothing; but you!"
He rose as though annoyed, took off his ap.r.o.n, shrugged his shoulders, then sat down again quickly, and called out:--"This madman, do you know what he is? I will tell you. He is most a.s.suredly one of those German school-masters who stuff their brains with "Old Mother Goose" tales, and then gravely relate them to others. By dint of studying, dreaming, ruminating, their wits get out of order; they have visions, many-sided ideas, and take their dreams for realities. I have always looked upon Yegof as one of those poor wretches. He knows lots of names, he speaks of Brittany and Australasia, of Polynesia and the Nideck, and then of Geroldseck, of the Turkestein, of the Rhine--in fact of everything at hazard; and it ends by having the appearance of something when it is nothing. In ordinary times you would think as I do, Catherine; but you are troubled at not receiving any tidings from Gaspard. These rumors of war and of invasion that are going about torment and unsettle you.
You cannot sleep; and what a poor madman says, you regard as Bible truths."
"No, Hullin; it is not that. If you yourself had heard Yegof----"
"Get along!" exclaimed the good old fellow. "If I had, I should have laughed at him as I did just now. Do you know that he came to ask Louise of me in marriage, to make her queen of Australasia?"
Catherine Lefevre could not restrain a smile; but, regaining almost at once her serious expression--"All your reasonings, Jean-Claude," said she, "cannot convince me; but, I confess it, the silence of Gasper frightens me. I know my son: he would certainly have written to me.
Why have his letters never reached me? The war is going on badly, Hullin--we have all the world against us. They don"t want our revolution--you know it as well as I do. So long as we were masters, and won victory after victory, they looked kindly on us; but since our Russian misfortunes, things wear a bad aspect."
"La, La, Catherine, how you get carried away. You see everything gloomily."
"Yes, I see everything gloomily, and I am right. What makes me so uneasy is, that we never get any news from the outer world; we live here as in a savage country: one knows of nothing that goes on. The Austrians and the Cossacks could be upon us at any time, and we should be taken by surprise."
Hullin observed the old dame, whose expression was very animated; and even he began to be influenced by the same fears.
"Listen, Catherine," said he, suddenly. "When you speak in a reasonable manner, it is not I who would say anything against it. All you now tell me is possible. I do not believe in it; but one might as well make sure. I had intended to go to Phalsbourg in a week, to buy sheepskins for tr.i.m.m.i.n.g some shoes: I will go to-morrow. At Phalsbourg, a garrison and post town, there must be some reliable news.
Will you believe those I shall bring you on my return from that place?"
"Yes."
"Good; it is then arranged. I shall leave to-morrow early. There are five leagues in all. I shall return about six o"clock. You will see, Catherine, that all your dismal ideas have no sense in them."
"I hope so," she replied, rising. "I hope so. You have somewhat rea.s.sured me, Hullin. Now I will go to the farm, and may I sleep better than I did last night. Good-night, Jean-Claude."
CHAPTER III
AT PHALSBOURG
The next day at dawn, Hullin, wearing his blue cloth Sunday breeches, his large brown velvet jacket and red waistcoat with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, and a broad beaver mountaineer"s hat turned up like a c.o.c.kade above his ruddy face--started on his way to Phalsbourg, a stout stick in his hand.
Phalsbourg is a small fortress, half-way on the imperial road from Strasbourg to Paris; it dominates Saverne, the defiles of Haut-Barr, Roche-Platte, Bonne-Fontaine, and of the Graufthal. Its bastions, outposts, and demilunes are cut out in zig-zags on a rocky plain: from afar, the walls look as though they might be cleared at a jump; but on coming closer one perceives the moat, a hundred feet wide, thirty deep, and the dark ramparts hewn in the face of the rock. That makes one stop suddenly. Besides, with the exception of the church, the town-hall, the two gateways of France and Germany, in shape of mitres, and the peaks of the two powder-magazines, all the rest is hidden behind the fortifications. Such is Phalsbourg, which is not without a certain imposing effect, especially when one crosses its bridges and piers, under its thick gates, garnished with iron-spiked portcullis.
In the interior, the houses are distributed in regular quarters; they are low, in straight lines, built of freestone: everything bears a military aspect.
Hullin, owing to his robust const.i.tution and jovial disposition, never had any fears for the future, and considered all rumors of retreat, rout, and invasion, which circulated in the country, as so many lies propagated by dishonest individuals; so that one may judge of his stupefaction when, on leaving the mountains and from the outskirts of the woods, he saw the whole surroundings of the town laid as bare as a pontoon: not a garden, not an orchard, not a promenade, or a tree, or even a shrub--all was destroyed within cannon-range. A few poor creatures were picking up the last remnants of their little houses, and carrying them into the town. Nothing was to be seen on the horizon but the line of ramparts standing out clearly above the hidden roads. It had the effect of a thunder-bolt on Jean-Claude.
For some moments he could neither articulate a word nor make a step forward.
"Oh, ho!" said he, at last, "this is bad--this is very bad. They expect the enemy."
Then his warlike instincts prevailed; a dark flush came over his brown cheeks. "It is those rascally Austrians, Prussians, and Russians, and all the other wretches picked up out of the dregs of Europe, who are the cause of this," cried he, waving his stick. "But beware! we will make them pay for the damages!"
He was possessed with one of those white rages such as honest people feel when they are driven to extremities. Woe to him who annoyed Hullin just then!
Twenty minutes later he entered the town, at the rear of a long file of carriages, each harnessed to five or six horses, pulling, with much trouble, enormous trunks of trees, destined to construct block-houses on the _place-d"armes_. Among the conductors, the peasants, and neighing, stamping horses, marched gravely a mounted _gendarme_--Father Kels--who did not seem to hear anything, and said, in a rough voice, "Courage, courage, my friends! We will make two more journeys before evening. You will have deserved well of your country!"
Jean-Claude crossed the bridge.
A new spectacle opened before him in the town. There reigned the ardor of defence: all the doors were open; men, women, and children came and ran, helping to transport the powder and projectiles. They stopped in groups of three, four, six, to make themselves acquainted with the news.
"He neighbor!"
"What then?"
"A courier has just arrived in great speed. He entered by the French gate."
"Then he has come to announce the National Guard from Nancy."
"Or, perhaps, a convoy from Metz."
"You are right. We want sixteen-pounders, and shot also. The stoves are to be broken up to make some."
A few worthy tradespeople in their shirt-sleeves, standing on tables along the pavement, were busying themselves with barricading their windows with large pieces of wood and mattresses; others rolled up to their doors tubs of water. This enthusiasm reanimated Hullin.
"Excellent!" said he; "everybody is making holiday here. The allies will be well received."
In front of the College, the squeaky voice of the Sergeant-de-ville Harmentier was proclaiming:--
"Let it be known that the casemates are to be opened: therefore everybody may take a mattress there, and two blankets each. And the commissaries of this place are going to commence their rounds of inspection, to ascertain that each inhabitant possesses food for three months in advance, which he must certify.--This day, 20th December, 1813.--JEAN PIERRE MEUNIER, _Governor_."