The Invasion of France in 1814 by Erckmann-Chatrian
CHAPTER IV
MADAME LEFEVRE
While Hullin was learning the disaster of our armies, and was walkingslowly, his head bent, and an anxious expression on his face, towardthe village of Charmes, everything went on as usual at the farm ofBois-de-Chenes. No one thought of Yegof's wonderful stories, or of thewar: old Duchene led his oxen to their drinking-place, the herdsmanRobin turned over their litter; Annette and Jeanne skimmed theircurdled milk. Only Catherine Lefevre was silent and gloomy--thinkingof days gone by--all the while superintending with an impassible facethe occupations of her domestics. She was too old and too serious toforget from one day to another what had so much troubled her. Whennight came on, after the evening's repast, she entered the great room,where her servants could hear her drawing the large register-book fromthe closet and putting it on the table, to sum up her accounts, as shewas in the habit of doing.
They soon began to load the cart with corn, vegetables, and poultry:for the next day there was a market at Sarrebourg, and Duchene had tostart early.
Picture to yourself the great kitchen, and all these worthy folkshurrying to finish their work before going to rest: the black kettle,full of beetroot and potatoes destined for the cattle, boiling on animmense pinewood fire; the plates, dishes, and soup-tureens shininglike suns on the shelves; the bunches of garlic and of reddish-brownonions hung up in rows to the beams of the ceiling, among the hams andflitches of bacon; Jeannie, in her blue cap and little red petticoat,stirring up the contents of the kettle with a big wooden spoon; thewicker cages, with the cackling fowls and great cock, who pushed hishead through the bars and looked at the flames with a wondering eye andraised crest; the bull-dog Michel, with his flat head and hanging jowl,in search of some forgotten dish; Dubourg coming down the creakingstaircase to the left, his back bent with a sack on his shoulder; whileoutside, in the dark night, old Duchene, upright on the cart, liftedhis lantern and called out, "That makes the fifteenth, Dubourg; twomore." One could see also, hanging against the wall, an old hare,brought by the hunter Heinrich to be sold at the market, and a finegrouse, with its purple and green plumage, dimmed eye, and a drop ofblood at the end of its beak.
It was about half-past seven when the sound of footsteps was heard atthe entrance to the yard. The bull-dog went toward the door growling.He listened, sniffed the night air, then went back quietly, and beganlicking his dish again.
"It is some one belonging to the farm," said Annette. "Michel does notmove."
Nearly at the same time, old Duchene from outside called,--"Good-night,Master Jean-Claude. Is it you?"
"Yes. I come from Phalsbourg; and I am going to rest myself a minutebefore going down to the village. Is Catherine here?"
And then the good man came forward to the light, his hat pushed off hisface, and his roll of sheepskins on his back.
"Good-night, my children," said he; "good-night! Always at work!"
"Yes, Monsieur Hullin, as you see," replied Jeanne, laughing. "If onehad nothing to do, life would be very wearisome."
"True, my pretty girl, true. It is only work which gives you yourroses and brilliant eyes."
Jeanne was going to answer, when the door of the great room opened, andCatherine Lefevre advanced, looking piercingly at Hullin, as though toguess beforehand what news he brought.
"Well, Jean-Claude, you have returned."
"Yes, Catherine; with good tidings and bad."
They entered the large room--a high and spacious apartment wainscotedwith wood to the ceiling, with its oak closets and their shiningclasps, its iron stove opening into the kitchen, its old clock countingthe seconds in its walnut-wood case, and the leathern arm-chair, wornand used by ten generations of aged men. Jean-Claude never went intothis room without its bringing back to his remembrance Catherine'sgrandfather, whom he seemed still to see, with his white head, sittingbehind the oven in the dark.
"Well?" demanded the old dame, offering a chair to the old shoemaker,who was just putting his pack down on the table.
"Well, from Gaspard the tidings are good; the boy is in good health.He has had hardships. All the better: it will be the making of him.But for the rest, Catherine, it is bad. The war! the war!"
He shook his head, and the old woman, her lips pressed, sat down facinghim, upright in the armchair, her eyes attentively fastened on him.
"So things look badly--decidedly--we shall have the war among us?"
"Yes, Catherine, from day to day we may expect to see the allies in ourmountains."
"I thought so. I was sure of it; but speak, Jean-Claude."
Hullin, then, his elbows on his knees, his red ears between his hands,and lowering his voice, began to relate all he had seen: the clearingof everything around the town, the placing of batteries on theramparts, the proclamation of the state of siege, the cart-loads ofwounded on the great square, his meeting with the old sergeant atWittmann's, and the story of the campaign. From time to time hepaused, and the old mistress of the farm blinked her eyes slowly, asthough to impress more deeply the various circumstances on her mind.When Jean-Claude told about the wounded, the good woman murmuredsoftly--"Gaspard has then escaped it all!"
Then, at the end of this mournful tale, there was a long silence, andboth looked at each other without pronouncing a word.
How many reflections, how many bitter feelings filled their souls!
After some seconds, Catherine recovering from these terriblethoughts--"You see, Jean-Claude," said she, in a serious tone. "Yegofwas not wrong."
"Certainly, certainly, he was not wrong," replied Hullin; "but whatdoes that prove? A madman, who goes from village to village, whodescends into Alsace, and from thence to Lorraine--who wanders fromright to left--it would be very astonishing if he saw nothing, and ifhe did not sometimes tell the truth in his madness. Everything getsmuddled in his head, and others believe they understand what he doesnot understand himself. But what of these wild stories, Catherine?The Austrians are upon us. It only concerns us to know if we shallallow them to pass, or if we shall have courage to defend ourselves."
"To defend ourselves!" cried the old woman, whose white cheekstrembled: "if we shall have courage to defend ourselves! Surely it isnot to me that you speak, Hullin. What! are we not worthy of ourancestors? Did they not defend themselves? Were they notexterminated--men, women, and children?"
"Then you are for the defence, Catherine?"
"Yes, yes; so long as there remains to me a bit of skin on my bones.Let them come! The oldest of the women is ready!"
Her masses of gray hair shook on her head, her pale rigid cheeksquivered, and her eyes sent forth lightnings. She was beautiful tosee--beautiful, like that old Margareth of whom Yegof had spoken.Hullin held out his hand silently, and gave an enthusiastic smile.
"Excellent," said he--"excellent! We are always the same in thisfamily. I know you, Catherine: you are ready now; but be calm andlisten to me. We are going to fight, and in what way?"
"In every way; all are good--axes, scythes, pitchforks."
"No doubt; but the best are muskets and the balls. We have muskets:every mountaineer keeps his above his door; unfortunately powder andballs are scarce."
The old dame became quieter all of a sudden; she pushed her hair backunder her cap, and looked anxiously about.
"Yes," she rejoined brusquely; "the powder and balls are wanting, it istrue, but we shall have some. Marc Dives, the smuggler, has some. Youshall go and see him to-morrow from me. You shall tell him thatCatherine Lefevre will buy all his powder and balls; that she will payhim; that she will sell her cattle, her farm, land,everything--everything--to have some. Do you understand, Hullin?"
"I understand. What you would do, Catherine, is noble."
"Bah! it is noble--it is noble!" replied the old dame. "It is quitesimple; I wish to revenge myself. These Austrians--these red men whohave already exterminated us--well! I hate them, I detest them, fromfather to son. There! you will buy powder, and these mad ruffianssh
Hullin then perceived that she still thought of Yegof's tale; butseeing how exasperated she was, and that, besides, her idea contributedto the defence of the country, made no observation on that subject, andsaid calmly,--"So, Catherine, it is settled; I am to go over to MarcDives's to-morrow!"
"Yes! you shall buy all his powder and lead. Some one ought also to gothe round of the mountain villages, to warn the people of what iscoming, and to arrange a signal beforehand for bringing them togetherin case of attack."
"Do not fear," said Jean-Claude. "I will undertake to charge myselfwith that."
Both rose and turned toward the door. For about half an hour no soundswere heard in the kitchen; the farm-servants had gone to bed. The olddame put down her lamp on the corner of the hearth, and drew the bolts.Outside the cold was intense, the air still and clear. All the peaksround, and the pine-trees of the Jaegerthal, stood out against the skyin dark or light masses. In the distance, far away behind thehill-side, a fox giving chase could be heard yelping in the valley ofBlanru.
"Good-night, Hullin," said Catherine.
"Good-night."
Jean-Claude walked quickly away on the heath-covered slopes, and themistress of the farm, after watching him for a second, shut her dooragain.
I leave you to imagine the joy of Louise when she learnt that Gaspardwas safe and sound. The poor child had hardly been living for twomonths. Hullin took care not to show her the dark cloud which wascoming over the horizon.
Through the night he could hear her prattling in her little room,talking as though congratulating herself, murmuring Gaspard's name,opening her drawers and boxes, without doubt so as to hunt up somerelics in them and tell them of her love.
So the linnet drenched in the storm, will, while yet shivering, beginto sing and hop from branch to branch with the first sunbeam.