Sorlé, Zeffen, and I went up, while Desmarets closed the door. Supper was ready; we sat down thoughtfully, and little Sâfel brought the keys. The noise had ceased without; now and then a citizen on patrol passed by. The sergeant came to smoke his pipe as usual. He explained how the screens were made, by crossing beams in the form of a sentry-box, the two sides supported against the gables, but while he maintained that it would hold like an arch, I did not think it strong enough, and I saw by Sorlé's face that she thought as I did. We sat there talking till ten o'clock, and then all went to bed. XII THE ENEMY REPULSED About one o'clock in the morning of the sixth of January, the day of the feast of the Kings, the enemy arrived on the hill of Saverne. It was terribly cold, our windows under the persiennes were white with frost. I woke as the clock struck one; they were beating the call at the infantry barracks. You can have no idea how it sounded in the silence of the night. "Dost thou hear, Moses?" whispered Sorlé. "Yes, I hear," said I, almost without breathing. After a minute some windows were opened in our street, and we knew that others too were listening; then we heard running, and suddenly the cry, "To arms! to arms!" It made one's hair stand on end. I had just risen, and was lighting a lamp, when we heard two knocks at our door. "Come in!" said Sorlé, trembling. The sergeant opened the door. He was in marching equipments, with his gaiters on his legs, his large gray cap turned up at the sides, his musket on his shoulder, and his sabre and cartridge-box on his back. "Father Moses," said he, "go back to bed and be quiet: it is the battalion call at the barracks, and has nothing to do with you." And we saw at once that he was right, for the drums did not come up the street two by two, as when the National Guard was called in. "Thank you, sergeant," I said. "Go to sleep!" said he, and he went down the stairs. The door of the alley below slammed to. Then the children, who had waked up, began to cry. Zeffen came in, very pale, with her baby in her arms, exclaiming, "Mercy! What is the matter?" "It is nothing, Zeffen," said Sorlé. "It is nothing, my child: they are beating the call for the soldiers." At the same moment the battalion came down the main street. We heard them march as far as to the Place d'Armes, and beyond it toward the German gate. We shut the windows, Zeffen went back to her room, and I lay down again.