Loe raamatut: «The Invasion of France in 1814», lehekülg 11

CHAPTER XIX
GASPARD'S LETTER

Toward two o'clock the next morning, snow began to fall. At daybreak the Germans had left Grandfontaine, Framont, and even Schirmeck. In the distance, on the plains of Alsace, could be seen the black lines, which indicated their retreating battalions.

Hullin arose early and made the round of the bivouacs. He stopped for a few seconds on the plateau, to look at the cannons in position, the sleeping partisans, and the watchful sentries; then, satisfied with his inspection, he re-entered the farm, where Louise and Catherine were still asleep.

The gray light was spreading everywhere. A few wounded in the next room were growing feverish; they were calling for their wives and children. Soon the hum of voices and the noise of busy feet broke the stillness of the night. Catherine and Louise awoke. They saw Jean-Claude sitting in a corner of the window watching them, and ashamed of having slept longer than he, they arose and approached him.

"Well?" asked Catherine.

"Well, they have left; and we are masters of the field, as I expected."

This assurance did not appear to satisfy the old dame. She looked through the window to see for herself that the Germans were retreating into Alsace; and during the whole of that day she seemed both anxious and troubled.

Between eight and nine the curé Saumaize came in from the village of Charmes. Some mountaineers then descended the slopes to pick up the dead, and dug a deep pit to the right of the farm, where partisans and "kaiserlichs," with their clothes, hats, shakos, and uniforms, were laid side by side. The curé Saumaize, a tall old man with white hair, read the prayers for the dead in that solemn, mysterious voice which seems to penetrate to the depths of one's soul, and to summon from the tomb the spirits of extinct generations to attest to the living the terrors of the grave.

All day carts and sledges continued to arrive to carry away the wounded, who demanded, with loud cries, to be allowed to see their villages once more. Doctor Lorquin, fearing to increase their irritation, was forced to consent. And toward four o'clock, Catherine and Hullin were alone in the great room: Louise had gone out to prepare the supper. Outside, large flakes of snow continued to fall, and, from time to time, a sledge might be seen silently passing along, bearing a wounded man laid in straw. Catherine, seated near the table, was folding bandages with an absent air.

"What ails you, Catherine?" demanded Hullin. "You have seemed so thoughtful since morning: and yet our affairs are going on well."

The old dame, pushing the linen slowly away from her, replied, – "Yes, Jean-Claude, I am uneasy."

"Uneasy about what? The enemy is in full retreat. Only this moment, Frantz Materne, whom I had sent to reconnoitre, and all the messengers from Piorette, Jérome, and Labarbe, told me that the Germans are returning to Mutzig. Old Materne and Kasper, having gathered up the dead, learned at Grandfontaine that nothing is to be seen in the direction of Saint-Blaize-la-Roche. All this proves that our Spanish dragoons gave the enemy a warm reception on the way to Senones, and that they fear an attack from Schirmeck. What is it, then, Catherine, that troubles you?"

And seeing that Hullin looked at her inquiringly, "You may laugh at me," said she; "but I have had a dream."

"A dream?"

"Yes, the same as at the farm of Bois-de-Chênes." And getting animated, she continued, in an almost angry tone, "You may say what you like, Jean-Claude, but a great danger menaces us. Yes, yes! you don't see any sense in all this; but it was not a dream, it was like an old tale which comes back to one: something one sees in sleep and remembers. Listen! We were as we are now, after a great victory – in some place – I don't know where – in a sort of large wooden shed, with beams across it, and palisades around. We were not thinking of anything: all the faces I saw I knew: you were among them, Marc Divès, Duchêne, and old men already dead: my father and old Hugues Rochart of Harberg, the uncle of him who has just died: and they all had coarse gray cloth blouses, with long beards and bare necks. We had won a like victory, and were drinking out of red earthenware pots, when a cry arose: 'The enemy is coming!' And Yégof, on horseback, with his long beard and pointed crown, an axe in his hand, and with his eyes gleaming like a wolf's, appeared before me in the darkness. I rushed on him with a club, he waited for me – and from that moment I saw no more. I only felt a great pain in my neck; a cold wind passed over my face, and my head seemed to be dangling at the end of a cord: it was that wretched Yégof who had hung my head to his saddle and was galloping away!"

There was a short pause; and then Jean-Claude, rousing from his stupor, replied: "It is a dream. I also have had dreams. Yesterday you were agitated, Catherine, by all that tumult, that noise."

"No," she exclaimed in a firm tone, taking up her task again: "no, it was not that. And to tell you the truth, during the battle, and even when, the cannons were thundering against us, I was not afraid; I was certain beforehand that we should not be beaten; I had seen it long ago. But now I am afraid."

"But the Germans have evacuated Schirmeck; the whole line of the Vosges is defended. We have more men than we need; they are coming every minute in great numbers."

"No matter."

Hullin shrugged his shoulders.

"Come, come! you are feverish, Catherine; try to be calm, and think of pleasanter things. As for all these dreams, you see, I make no more account of them than I do of the Grand Turk, with his pipe and blue stockings. The chief thing is to keep a good look-out, and to have plenty of ammunition, men, and guns: that is infinitely better than the most rose-colored dreams."

"You are mocking me, Jean-Claude."

"No; but to hear a sensible, courageous woman speak as you do, reminds one in spite of himself of Yégof, who pretends to have lived sixteen hundred years ago."

"Who knows?" said the old woman, in an obstinate tone; "it is possible he may remember what others have forgotten."

Hullin was going to relate to her his conversation of the evening before at the bivouac-fire with the madman, thus hoping to overthrow all her gloomy fancies; but seeing she agreed with Yégof about the sixteen hundred years, the worthy man said no more, but resumed his walk up and down, with his head bent and an anxious face: "She is mad," thought he; "one more shock and it is all over with her!"

Catherine after a pause was going to speak, when Louise entered like a swallow, calling out, in her sweetest voice, "Maman Lefèvre, Maman Lefèvre, a letter from Gaspard!"

Whereupon the old farm-wife, whose hooked nose almost touched her lips, so angry was she to see Hullin turning her dream into ridicule, raised her head, the long wrinkles in her face relaxing.

She took the letter, looked at the red seal, and said to the young girl: "Embrace me, Louise: it is a good letter!" And Louise at once embraced her with joy.

Hullin came close up to them, delighted at this incident; and the postman Brainstein, his big boots dyed red with the snow, his two hands on his stick, and drooping his shoulders, stationed himself at the door with a tired look.

The old dame put on her spectacles, slowly opened the letter under the impatient eyes of Jean-Claude and Louise, and read aloud: —

"This, my mother, is to announce to you that all goes well, and that I reached Phalsbourg on Tuesday evening just as the gates were being closed. The Cossacks were already on the Saverne road; we had to fire all night against their advanced guard. The following day, an envoy was sent demanding the surrender of the place. The commandant, Meunier, told him to go and be hanged; and three days after great showers of bombs and shells began to rain upon the town. The Russians have three batteries – one on the side of Hittelbronn, the other at the Baraques above, and the third behind the tilery of Pernette near the drinking-tank; but the red-hot shot do us the most harm: they burn down the houses, and when a fire has broken out the bombs then come in quantities and prevent the people from extinguishing it. The women and children do not leave the block-houses; the townsmen remain with us on the ramparts: they are fine fellows. Among them are some old soldiers of the Sambre-et-Meuse, Italy, and Egypt, who have not forgotten how to manage the guns. I felt sorry to see the graybeards bending over the carronades to take aim. I will answer for it that there are no balls lost with them; but all the same, when one has made the world tremble, it is hard to be obliged, in one's old days, to fight for one's home and last morsel of bread."

"Yes, it is hard," exclaimed Catherine, drying her eyes. "Only to think of it makes one's heart bleed."

Then she continued: —

"The day before yesterday, the governor decided on our making a sortie against the tile-kiln battery. You must know that these Russians break the ice of the tank, and bathe in it, in groups of from twenty to thirty; afterward drying themselves in the oven of the brick-kiln. Well! about four o'clock, as the day was closing, we went out by the Arsenal gateway, ascending the covered way, and filing along the Allée-des-Vaches, with our muskets under our arms, and marching at the double. Ten minutes after we commenced a rolling fire on the men that were in the tank. Then their comrades rushed out of the brick-kilns: they had only time to put on their cartouche-boxes, seize their muskets, and form, all naked as they were, on the snow, like regular savages. Notwithstanding that, the rogues were ten times more numerous than we, and they began a movement to the right, in the direction of the little chapel of St. John, in order to surround us, when the guns from the Arsenal began to send such a storm of shot at them as I never saw before; it carried whole files clean off. A quarter of an hour later they retreated in a body to Quatre-Vents, without waiting to pick up their breeches – their officers at their head, and the hail from the fortress bringing up the rear. Papa Jean-Claude would have laughed at the rout immensely. At last, toward nightfall, we returned to the town, having destroyed one of their batteries and thrown two eight-pounders into the well of the kiln. It was our first sortie. I am now writing to you from the Baraques du Bois-de-Chênes, where we have been sent to get provisions for the fortress. All this may last months. It is said that the allies are reascending the valley of Dosenheim as far as Weschem, and that thousands of them are marching on Paris. Oh, if the Emperor once obtained the upper hand in Lorraine and Champagne, not one of them would escape! But who lives will see. They are sounding the retreat on Phalsbourg. We have collected a pretty good number of oxen, cows, and goats about here; but shall have to fight in order to get them in safely. Good-by, my good mother, my dearest Louise, and Papa Jean-Claude. I embrace you as though I held you in my arms."

At the close of the letter, Catherine Lefèvre was overwhelmed with emotion.

"What a brave boy!" said she. "He only knows his duty. There! thou hearest, Louise? He embraces thee!"

Louise then throwing herself into her arms, they embraced each other; and Catherine, notwithstanding the firmness of her character, could not keep back two large tears from trickling down her cheeks; then, recovering herself, "Come," said she, "all is well! Come, Brainstein, you must eat some meat and drink a glass of wine. And here is a crown-piece for your journey; I would give you the same sum every day of the week for such a letter."

The postman, delighted with his present, followed the old dame. Louise walked after them, and Jean-Claude, also, being eager to interrogate Brainstein as to what he had learnt on the road, touching the events taking place; but he could get nothing new out of him, except that the allies were besieging Bitsche and Lutzelstein, and that they had lost some hundreds of men in trying to force the Graufthal pass.

CHAPTER XX
THE SURPRISE

Toward ten o'clock, Catherine Lefèvre and Louise, after having wished Hullin good-night, went up to sleep in the room over the large kitchen; in which there were two feather-beds, with curtains, striped with blue and red, reaching to the ceiling.

"Come," exclaimed the old woman, climbing up to hers on a chair – "come, sleep well, my child. As for me, I am tired out, and almost asleep already."

She drew the bedclothes round her, and five minutes after was sound asleep. Louise soon followed her example.

Now this had lasted about two hours, when the old dame was awakened suddenly by a tremendous noise.

"To arms! to arms! Ho! this way quick! A thousand thunders! they are upon us!"

Five or six shots then followed each other, lighting up the dark windows.

"To arms! to arms!"

Then there was more firing, and the noise of people rushing about everywhere.

Hullin's voice, sharp and vibrating, could be heard giving orders.

Then, to the left of the farm, a great way off, there came a low dull crackling sound, from the gorges of the Grosmann.

"Louise! Louise!" cried the old farm-wife, – "dost thou hear?"

"Yes! Oh, my God! it is terrible."

Catherine sprang out of bed.

"Get up, my child," said she, "and let us dress."

The firing redoubled, and flashed like lightning upon the panes.

"Attention!" shouted Materne.

One could also hear the neighing of a horse outside, and the tramping of a great crowd in the alley, the yard, and before the farm: the house seemed shaken to its foundations.

Suddenly, the firing came from the windows of the large room on the ground-floor. The two women dressed in haste. Just at that moment, a heavy foot creaked on the stairs; the door opened, and Hullin appeared with a lantern, showing signs of great agitation.

"Make haste!" cried he; "we have not an instant to lose."

"What has happened then?" asked Catherine.

The fusillade came nearer.

"Eh!" exclaimed Jean-Claude, throwing up his arms, "have I time now to explain to you?"

The old dame understood that the only thing to be done was to obey. She put on her hood and descended the staircase with Louise. By the flickering light of the shots, Catherine saw Materne, bare-necked, and his son Kasper, firing from the entrance of the alley upon the abatis, and ten others behind handing them muskets, so that they had only to aim and fire. All these men, in a throng, loading, shouldering, and firing, had a terrible aspect. Three or four dead bodies lying against the old wall added to the horror of the scene. The smoke was at the point of reaching the dwelling.

Coming down the stairs, Hullin cried, "Here they are, thank heaven!" And all the brave fellows who were there, looking up, cried out, "Courage, Mother Lefèvre!"

Whereupon the poor old lady, worn out by her emotions, began to weep and lean on Jean-Claude's shoulder; but he lifted her up like a feather, and ran along by the wall to the right. Louise followed, sobbing loudly.

Out of doors, one could only hear the whizzing of bullets and the dull heavy blows against the wall; the bricks and mortar were tumbling down, the tiles rolling about; while in front, near the abatis, and three hundred yards off, one could see the white uniforms in line, lit up by their own fire in the dark night; and, to their left, on the other side of the ravine of Minières, the mountaineers attacking them in flank.

Hullin disappeared at the corner of the farm, – where all was in darkness; – Doctor Lorquin, on horseback in front of a sledge, having a large cavalry sword in his hand and two pistols passed through his belt, with Frantz Materne and a dozen other armed men, being barely distinguishable. Hullin placed Catherine in the sledge, on some straw, and Louise by her side.

"There you are!" exclaimed the doctor. "It is well for you."

And Frantz Materne added: – "If it were not for you, Mother Lefèvre, you may well believe that not one of us would quit the plateau this night; but there is nothing to be said since you are in the case."

"No," cried the others, "there is nothing to be said!"

Just at that moment, a tall fellow, with legs long as a heron's and a round back, came running behind the wall and shouting, "They are coming! Fly! fly!"

Hullin turned pale.

"It is the big knife-grinder of the Harberg!" he exclaimed, grinding his teeth.

Frantz without saying a word put his musket to his shoulder, aimed and fired; and Louise saw the grinder at thirty yards in the dim light, throw up his arms and fall face downward on the ground. Frantz reloaded, smiling grimly.

Hullin then said: "Comrades, here is our mother – she who has given us powder and furnished us with food for the defence of our country; and here is my child: save them!"

They all replied: "We will save, or die with, them."

"And do not forget to warn Divès to stay at the Falkenstein till further orders."

"All right, Jean-Claude."

"Then forward, doctor, forward!" cried the gallant man.

"And you, Hullin?" exclaimed Catherine.

"My place is here; our position must be defended till death!"

"Papa Jean-Claude!" cried Louise, holding out her arms to him.

But he had already turned the corner, – the doctor flicked his horse, and the sledge passed quickly along the snow. Frantz Materne and his men, with their muskets on their shoulders, marched behind; while a rolling fire of musketry was still kept up around the farm.

That was what Catherine Lefèvre and Louise saw in the space of a few minutes. No doubt something strange and terrible had happened in the night. The old farm-mistress, recalling her dream, became very thoughtful. Louise dried her eyes and looked toward the plateau, which was lighted up as by a fire. The horse bounded away under the doctor's whip, so that the mountaineers could hardly keep up. For some distance the tumult and clamor of the battle, the explosions, and whizzing of the balls among the branches, were distinctly heard; but all this grew fainter and fainter, and soon, at the descent of the path, vanished as in a dream.

The sledge had reached the opposite side of the mountain, and was flying like an arrow through the darkness. The only sounds which broke the silence were the galloping of the horse, the quick breathing of the escort, and from time to time the doctor's cry, "Here, Bruno! here then!"

A current of cold wind, coming up from the valley of the Sarre, carried upon its breeze, like a great sigh, the endless roar of the torrents and soughing of the woods. The moon was peering out from behind a cloud, and looking down on the black forests of Blanru, with their tall pines loaded with snow.

Ten minutes later the sledge had gained an angle of the woods, and Doctor Lorquin, turning round in his saddle, exclaimed, – "Now, Frantz, what have we to do? Here is the way which leads toward the hills of St. Quirin, and there is another road which descends to Blanru. Which shall we take?"

Frantz and the men of the escort came up. As they were then on the western slope of the Donon, they began to see again, high in the air, on the other side of the hill, the fusillade of the Germans, who were advancing by way of the Grosmann. First they saw the flashes, and then heard the rolling echoes in the depths of the valleys.

"The road by the hills of St. Quirin," said Frantz, "is the shortest cut to the farm of Bois-de-Chênes; it would save at least three-quarters of an hour."

"Yes," rejoined the doctor, "but we should risk being stopped by the Germans, who now occupy the defile of the Sarre. See, they are already masters of the heights; they have no doubt sent detachments to the Sarre-Rouge in order to turn the Donon."

"Let us take the Blanru road, then," said Frantz; "it is longer, but safer."

The sledge passed down the left along the woods. The partisans, gun in hand, advanced one after the other along the top of the bank, while the doctor on his horse swept along the snow in the roadway. Above, the great pine-branches met across the road, and enveloped it with their deep shadows, while the moon lit up the surrounding scenery. This road was so majestic and picturesque, that, under any other circumstances, Catherine would have been astonished at it, and Louise would not have failed to admire the garlands of icicles, looking like crystals in the pale rays of the moon; but just then they were filled with uneasiness; and, moreover, when the sledge entered the gorge, all the brightness vanished, and only the summits of the high mountains around remained visible. They had been going in this way for a quarter of an hour, when Catherine, having kept silence for some time, at last could contain herself no longer, but exclaimed: "Doctor Lorquin, now that you have us in the depths of Blanru, and can do with us what you please, will you explain to me why we have been dragged away by force? Jean-Claude carried me off, and flung me on this heap of straw – and here I am!"

"Up, Bruno," cried the doctor.

Then he gravely answered her: "This night, Dame Catherine, a great misfortune has overtaken us. You must not attribute it to Jean-Claude: it is by another's fault that we have lost the fruit of all our sacrifices!"

"Through whose fault?"

"That unlucky Labarbe's, who did not guard the defile of the Blutfeld. He died afterward fulfilling his duty; but that does not repair the disaster; and if Piorette does not come up in time to aid Hullin, all is lost; it will be necessary to abandon the road and to fight retreating."

"What! the Blutfeld is taken?"

"Yes, Mistress Catherine. Who the deuce could ever have thought that the Germans would enter that? A defile almost impracticable for foot-passengers, enclosed by rugged rocks, where the goatherds can barely descend with their flocks. Well, they marched that way, two at a time; they turned Roche-Creuse, crushed Labarbe, and then fell upon Jérome, who defended himself like a lion till nine in the evening; but, at last, he was obliged to take refuge in the pine-woods, and leave the pass to the 'kaiserlichs.' That is the whole story. It is shocking. Indeed, there must be some one among us base and vile enough to have guided the enemy, and would deliver us over to him bound hands and feet. Oh, the wretch!" cried Lorquin, furiously. "I am not revengeful, but if he came into my clutches, how I would serve him! Up, Bruno! up, then!"

The partisans were marching along the bank like spectres, without saying a word.

The old farm-mistress became silent in order to collect her ideas.

"I begin to understand," said she at last. "We were attacked to-night on both sides."

"Exactly so, Catherine. Fortunately, ten minutes before the attack, one of Marc Divès's smugglers, Zimmer, the old dragoon, had come full gallop to warn us. Had it not been for that, we would have been lost. He fell in with our vanguard, after having run the gauntlet of a detachment of Cossacks on the plateau of Grosmann. The poor fellow had received a terrible sabre-thrust; and his bowels were protruding over the saddle – was it not so, Frantz?"

"Yes," replied the hunter, sadly.

"And what did he say?" demanded Catherine.

"He had only time to cry, 'To arms! We are hemmed in! Jérome sends me. Labarbe is dead! The Germans have passed the Blutfeld!'"

"He was a gallant fellow," exclaimed Catherine.

"Yes, a gallant fellow," replied Frantz, with his head bent down.

Then they relapsed into silence, and for some time the sledge swept through the winding valley. Now and then they were obliged to stop, the snow was so deep – when three or four mountaineers would take the horse by the bridle – and so they continued their way.

"All the same," said Catherine, suddenly rousing up from her reverie, "Hullin might have told me."

"But if he had mentioned these two attacks," interrupted the doctor, "you would have wanted to remain."

"And who can hinder me from doing what I like? If it pleased me to get out of the sledge this very moment, should I not be free? I had forgiven Jean-Claude, but I am sorry for it!"

"Oh, Maman Lefèvre, supposing he is killed while you are saying that!" murmured Louise.

"She is right, poor child," thought Catherine; and then quickly added, "I said I was sorry for it; but he is such a good man, that one cannot be angry with him. I forgive him with all my heart; in his place I should have done the same."

Two or three hundred yards farther on they entered the defile of Roches. The snow had ceased falling, and the moon was shining between great white clouds. The narrow gorge, hemmed in by steep precipices, expanded in the distance, its sides covered with tall pines. Nothing disturbed the deep calm of the woods; one could have imagined one's self far away from all human agitation. The silence was so great that every step the horse made in the snow could be heard, and even his sharp quick breathing. Frantz Materne halted at times to gaze upon the black slopes, and then hurried on to overtake the others.

They crossed valley after valley; the sledge mounted and descended, now to the right and then to the left; and the partisans, with their bayonets fixed, followed continually.

Toward three in the morning they reached the meadow of Brimbelles, where at the present day an old oak can still be seen bending over the valley. To the left, in the midst of the snow-covered, heather, behind a low stone wall, stood the old house of the guard Cuny. Three beehives were placed on a bench, a gnarled vine hung down from the roof and a small pine-bough was suspended over the door by way of sign-board, for Cuny carried on the business of innkeeper in this solitary place.

At this spot the road runs close under the meadow wall, and as a large cloud obscured the light of the moon, the doctor, fearing to be upset, halted beneath the oak.

"We have only one hour's journey more, Mother Lefèvre," said he; "take courage; there is no hurry."

"Yes," said Frantz; "the heaviest part of the road is over, and the horse may breath a while."

The small party collected round the sledge, and the doctor got down. Some lit their pipes; but no one spoke: they were all busy thinking of the Donon. What was going on there? Would Jean-Claude be able to defend the plateau till Piorette arrived? So many dread thoughts and dismal reflections passed through the minds of the worthy people, that not one seemed able to speak.

They had been standing thus about five minutes, when the black cloud passed slowly away, and the pale moonlight lit up the gorge. Suddenly, a dark figure on horseback appeared two hundred paces from them, in the path between the pine-trees. By the light of the moon they quickly perceived that it was the figure of a Cossack with his sheepskin cap, and bearing a lance under his arm. He was advancing slowly; Frantz was already taking aim, when other Cossacks with their lances appeared behind him. They advanced deliberately in the direction of the sledge, like people on the search, some with their heads turned upward, others peering into the shrubs from their saddles. They numbered more than thirty.

Imagine the feelings of Louise and Catherine, seated in the middle of the road. They looked on open-mouthed. In another minute they would be surrounded by these bandits. The mountaineers were stupefied; it was impossible to return: they were hemmed in on one side by the meadow wall, on the other by the mountain-side. The old farm-wife seized Louise by the hand, and said, in a stifled voice, "Let us escape to the woods!"

She sprang from the sledge, leaving her shoe in the straw.

Suddenly one of the Cossacks uttered a guttural cry, which was repeated along the whole line.

"We are discovered!" exclaimed the doctor, as he drew his sword.

The words had scarcely escaped his lips when twelve musket-shots lit up the path from end to end; a regular savage whoop answered the report of the muskets. The Cossacks made off from the path to the meadow in front, gave their horses the reins, bent down in their saddles, and flew toward the guard-house like deer.

"Ha! they are off like the devil!" said the doctor.

But the worthy man was too hasty. Suddenly, when they had gone two or three hundred yards along the valley, the Cossacks again wheeled round and massed themselves firmly together; then, with their lances in rest, and bending over their horses' heads, they rushed straight at the partisans, shouting in hoarse voices – "Hourah! hourah!"

It was a terrible moment.

Frantz and the others sprang toward the wall, to protect the sledge.

In another second, the clashing of lances and screams of rage could alone be heard, mingled with imprecations. Under the shadow of the old oak, through the straggling moonbeams, could be seen the horses prancing with tossing manes, as they endeavored to clear the meadow wall; while the barbarian Cossacks, with gleaming eyes and uplifted arms, struck furiously with their lances, advancing, retreating, and uttering piercing yells.

Louise, deathly pale, and Catherine, with her gray dishevelled hair, stood up in the straw.

Doctor Lorquin, in front of them, parried the strokes with his sabre, and all the time kept shouting to them – "Lie down! lie down!" But they did not hear him.

Louise, in the midst of the tumult and shouting, thought only of sheltering Catherine; and the old dame, in the midst of her terror, had recognized Yégof, on a tall, gaunt horse – Yégof, with his tin crown, bristling beard, long lance, and dog-skin floating from his shoulders. She saw him as distinctly as though it were broad daylight. He stood about ten feet distant, with sparkling eyes, brandishing his blue lance in the darkness, and striving to reach her. What could she do? Submit to her fate! Thus do the most resolute characters succumb to inevitable destiny. The old dame thought her fate was sealed. She saw all these people tearing like wolves, thrusting and parrying in the moonlight. She saw some fall; and horses running, riderless through the fields. She saw the topmost window of the guard-house thrown open; and old Cuny, in his shirt-sleeves, shoulder his gun, though not daring to fire into the crowd. All passed before her eyes with wonderful clearness. "The madman has returned," she said to herself. "Do what they will, he will hang my head to the side of his saddle. It will end as I saw in my dream."