"The path by the hills of St. Quirin," said Frantz, "is the shortest way to the farm of Bois-des-Chênes; we shall gain at least three-quarters of an hour." "Yes," cried the doctor; "but we risk being stopped by the _kaiserlicks_, who now hold the pass of the Sarre. See, they are already masters of the heights; they have, no doubt, sent detachments on to Sarre-Rouge to secure the passage of the Donon." "Let us take the path by the Blanru," said Frantz; "it is longer, but it is safer." The sleigh descended the path, to the left through the woods. The volunteers marched one behind the other, gun in hand, on the rising ground, while the doctor on horseback in the road beneath made his way through the untrodden snow that lay thick upon the ground. Above hung the branches of the dark fir-trees overshadowing the gloomy pathway, while all around the moon was shining brightly. As they proceeded thus for about a quarter of an hour, in silence, Catherine, after having held her tongue for a long while, not being able to contain herself any longer, exclaimed: "Doctor Lorquin, now that you have got us into the pass of the Blanru, and can do what you like with us, perhaps you will be good enough to explain why we have been taken away by force? Jean-Claude came and caught me up in his arms, and tossed me on to this truss of straw, and here I am!" "Houp, Bruno!" said the doctor. Then he gravely replied:--"To-night, Dame Catherine, the worst of misfortunes has befallen us. You must not be angry with Jean-Claude, for through the fault of another, we lose the fruit of all our sacrifices." "By whose fault?" "Of that unlucky Labarbe, who has not held the pass of the Blutfeld. He has since died doing his duty; but that does not repair the disaster, and if Piorette does not come in time to the support of Hullin, all is lost! We must yield our posts, and beat a retreat." "What! Blutfeld is taken?" "Yes, Dame Catherine; who the deuce would have ever thought that the Germans could approach that way? A defile almost impracticable for foot passengers, hemmed in as it is between perpendicular rocks, where the shepherds themselves can hardly descend with their flocks of goats. Well, they passed through there, two by two; surprised Roche-Creuse; they killed Labarbe, and then fell upon Jerôme, who defended himself like a lion until nine o'clock in the evening; but, at the last, he was obliged to fly into the fir forest, and leave the passage free to the _kaiserlicks_. That is the whole of the story. It is fearful. There must have been in the country some man cowardly enough, vile enough, to guide the enemy to our rear, and deliver us up, bound hand and foot. Oh! the wretch!" exclaimed Lorquin, his voice quivering with rage. "I am not naturally cruel; but if he should fall into my clutches, I would tear him to pieces! Houp, Bruno! come up!" The volunteers still continued their way along the rising ground, silently, like shadows.