The Invasion of France in 1814 Part 21

"Well, then, come!"

The smuggler's tone had something remarkable about it: from being a moment before furious at having taken no part in the fight, he had now become triumphant. Jean-Claude followed him, feeling very uneasy: and the large room was immediately deserted, everybody being convinced, from Marc's manner, that there was something serious the matter.

To the right of the Donon extends the ravine of Minieres, through which runs a foaming torrent when the snows melt--descending from the summit of the mountain to the valley.

Exactly in front of the plateau defended by the partisans, and on the other side of this ravine, at a distance of five or six hundred metres, projects a sort of open terrace with rugged sides, which Hullin had considered unnecessary to occupy for the time, wishing not to divide his forces, and seeing, besides, that it would be easy for him to turn this position by the pine-clumps, and to establish himself there, if the enemy showed any intention to take it.

Now imagine the consternation of the worthy man when, on reaching the door of the farm-house, he saw two companies of Germans climbing this ascent, among the gardens of Grandfontaine, having two field-pieces yoked to powerful horses, which appeared to hang over the precipice. A troop was pushing at the wheels, and in a few seconds the guns would have reached the plateau.

It was like a thunder-bolt for Jean-Claude; he turned pale, and then into a great pa.s.sion with Dives.

"Couldst thou not have warned me sooner?" he cried. "Did I not command thee to watch over the ravine? Our position is turned. They will hem us in, and cut us off from the road farther on. Everything is going to the deuce."

The people present, and old Materne himself, who had come up in great haste, were startled by the glance he darted at the smuggler; who, notwithstanding his usual audacity, was quite confused, not knowing what to reply.

"Come, come, Jean-Claude," said he at last, "be calm. It is not so serious as thou sayest. We have not fought yet--we others; and besides, we have no cannons--so it will be the very thing for us."

"Yes, the very thing for us, imbecile! Thy self-love made thee wait till the last minute, did it not? Thou wert too eager to fight, and have an opportunity for boasting and making bravado; and for that thou didst not hesitate to risk all our lives. Look! there are other troops being got ready at Framont."

In fact, another column, much stronger than the first, was just then marching out of Framont at the charge, and advancing against the breastworks. Dives did not say a word. Hullin controlled his anger, and became suddenly calm in the presence of danger.

"Go back to your posts," he said briefly to those around him. "Let all be ready for the coming attack. Materne, listen!"

The old hunter inclined his head. Meanwhile, Marc Dives had recovered his self-possession.

"Instead of screaming like a woman," said he, "thou wouldst do better to give me orders to attack down there, by turning the ravine at the pine-clumps."

"Then do it!" replied Jean-Claude; and in a calmer tone: "Listen, Marc!

I am very angry with thee. We were conquerors; and by thy fault the battle has to be fought over again. If thou failest in thy attack, all is lost for us."

"Good! good! The affair is altogether mine: I will answer for it."

Then, springing on his horse, and throwing the end of his mantle over his shoulder, he drew his long blade with a defiant air. His men did the same.

He then turned to the reserve, composed of five hundred mountaineers, and showing the plateau to them with the point of his sword, said, "Look there, my men! we must carry that position. The men of Dagsburg must not say that they are braver than the men of the Sarre. Forward!"

And, full of ardor, they advanced, skirting the ravine. Hullin shouted to them--"At the point of your bayonets!"

The big smuggler, on his great sleek roan, turned round, laughing out of the corners of his mustache, and waved his sword in a significant way; then the whole body dashed into the pine-wood.

At the same time the Germans, with their eight-pounders, had gained the plateau, and were putting them in position, while the column from Framont was ascending the hill-side. Thus everything was in the same condition as before the battle,--with this difference, that the enemies' bullets would now come into play and take the mountaineers in the rear.

One could see distinctly the two field-pieces with their cramp-irons, levers, sponges, artillerymen, and the officer commanding, a great lanky fellow, with broad shoulders and fair mustaches floating in the wind. The blue shades of the valley seeming to diminish the distance, they looked as though you might have touched them; but Hullin and Materne were not to be deceived; it was a good six hundred metres across. No carbine could reach so far. Nevertheless, the old hunter, before returning to the abatis, wished to have his mind set quite at rest. He advanced as close as possible to the ravine, followed by his-son Kasper and a few mountaineers; and, leaning against a tree, he raised his gun deliberately and took aim at the tall officer with the fair mustaches. All those about him held their breath for fear of balking the attempt.

Materne fired, but when he laid down his weapon to see what had occurred, no change had taken place.

"It is astonishing how age weakens the sight," he said.

"Your weakened sight!" cried Kasper. "There is not a man from the Vosges to Switzerland who can boast of hitting his mark at two hundred metres like you!"

The old hunter knew well it was the case, but he did not wish to discourage the others.

"Well," he replied, "we have no time for disputing. Here is the enemy again; let each do his duty." Although these words seemed simple and calm enough, Materne was very much troubled in reality. On entering the trench confused sounds met his ear--the clattering of arms and the regular tramp of many feet. He looked down over the steep bank, and now saw the Germans, who this time carried long ladders with hooks at the end.

It was not a pleasant sight for the brave fellow: he made a sign to his son to approach, and said to him, in a low voice, "Kasper, that looks bad--very bad; the rascals are coming with ladders. Give me thy hand!

I should like to have thee near me, and Frantz as well; but we must defend ourselves with steadiness."

At this moment a great explosion shook the abatis, and a hoa.r.s.e voice was heard crying out, "Ah, my G.o.d!" Then a hundred paces distant there was a heavy sound, and a fine tree bent down slowly and fell into the abyss. It was the first cannon-ball: it had cut off old Rochart's legs. It was followed by another immediately after, which covered all the mountaineers with broken ice, and made a great rumbling. Old Materne himself had bent down under the force of the explosion, but raising himself quickly, he shouted, "Let us revenge ourselves, my children. They are before you. To conquer or die!"

Fortunately the panic of the mountaineers only lasted a second: they all understood that the slightest hesitation and they were lost. Two ladders had already been raised, notwithstanding the fusillade, and were being attached to the bank by their iron hooks. This sight made the partisans furious, and the fight became more terrible and desperate than before.

Hullin had noticed the ladders before Materne had, and his wrath against Dives increased; but as in such a case indignation is of no avail, he had sent Lagarmitte to tell Frantz Materne, who had been posted on the other side of the Donon, to come to him quickly with half his men. We may well believe the brave fellow, warned of the danger his father was in, lost not a moment. Already their large black hats could be seen climbing the hill-side amid the snows, their carbines slung across their shoulders. They came with all despatch, nevertheless Jean-Claude met them, with a haggard expression in his eyes, and shouted in a vibrating voice, "Come quicker! at that rate you will never reach us."

He was in a towering pa.s.sion, and attributed all the misfortune to the smuggler.

Meanwhile Marc Dives, in about half an hour, had gone round the ravine, and, from the back of his tall horse, began to perceive the two companies of Germans, with grounded arms, about a hundred feet behind the guns, which were being fired upon the trench. Then, approaching the mountaineers, he said to them, in a stifled voice, while the reports of the cannon were re-echoed in the gorge and in the distance the noise of battle was heard: "Comrades, you must attack the infantry with your bayonets: I and my men will be answerable for the rest. Is it understood?"

"Yes, it is understood."

"Then, forward!"

The whole troop advanced in good order toward the outskirts of the wood, big Piercy of Soldatenthal at their head. Nearly at the same instant the _Wer da?_ ("Who there?") of a sentinel was heard; then two shots; a loud cry of "Vive la France!" and the trampling of many feet in a charge. The brave mountaineers threw themselves like wolves on the enemy.

Dives stood up in his stirrups and watched them with great glee. "That is well," said he.

The _melee_ was a terrible one; the ground trembled with it. The Germans were firing no more than the partisans: the affair was pa.s.sing in silence; the clashing of bayonets and the sound of sabre-strokes, with here and there a rifle-shot, shouts of anger and a great tumult: except these, one could hear nothing else. The smugglers, with outstretched necks and sword in hand, sniffed the carnage and awaited the signal from their chief with impatience.

"Now, it is our turn," said Dives, at length. "The guns must be ours."

And out of the underwood they sprang, and their large cloaks flying behind them like wings, they dashed forward, bending in their saddles and pointing their swords.

"Never mind cutting! Run them through!" cried Dives once more.

That was all he said.

In a second, the twelve vultures were down upon the guns. Among their number were four old Spanish dragoons and two cuira.s.siers of the guard, whom a life of danger had attached to Marc: so I leave you to imagine how they fought. Blows from lever, rammer, and sabre, the only arms the gunners had to hand, rained upon them like hail; they parried them all, and every cut they made brought down a man.

Marc Dives received two pistol-shots, of which one singed his left cheek and the other carried away his hat. But, at the same time, bending over his saddle, his long arms stretched out, he transfixed the big officer with the fair mustaches to his gun; then raising himself deliberately, and gazing round him with a frown, said, in a sententious manner: "We have cleared out the rubbish! the guns are ours."

To get a good idea of this terrible scene, you must imagine the crowd on the plateau of Minieres. The cries, the neighings of horses, the flight of some, who threw down their arms in order to run the faster, the desperation of others;--beyond the ravine, the ladders covered with white uniforms and bristling with bayonets; the mountaineers above the escarpment defending themselves with obstinacy; the hill-sides, the road, and, above all, the s.p.a.ce outside the breastworks, enc.u.mbered with dead and wounded;--the great numbers of the enemy, their muskets over their shoulders and their officers in the midst of them, pressing forward into action; and, finally, Materne standing on the crest of the hill, his bayonet in the air, his mouth opened wide, shouting wildly to his son Frantz, who was advancing with his troop, Master Jean-Claude at their head, to aid the mountaineers. You should have heard the fusillade, the platoon and file firing, and, above all, the distant confused shouts, intermixed with sharp wails dying away among the mountain echoes. To gain a good idea of the scene, you should imagine all these as concentrated into one moment and surveyed with a rapid glance.

But Dives was not of a contemplative turn: he lost no time in making poetical reflections on the uproar and savagery of the battle. With one look he had taken in the whole situation; so, springing from his horse, he went up to the first gun, which was still loaded, aimed it at the ladders, and fired.

Then there arose wild clamors, and the smuggler, peering through the smoke, saw that fearful havoc had been made in the enemy's ranks. He waved his hands in sign of triumph, and the mountaineers on the breastworks answered with a general hurrah.

"Now then, dismount," said he to his men, "and don't go to sleep. A cartridge, a ball, and some turf. We will sweep the road. Look out!"

The smugglers put themselves in position, and continued to fire with enthusiasm upon the white coats. The bullets rained into their ranks.

At the tenth discharge there was a general _sauve-qui-peut_.