"Oh! yes. We will talk of all that by-and-by. We have no time to lose now," said Hullin. "The pass of the Donon is lost, the Cossacks may be here by daybreak, and we have still many things to do." He turned the corner and entered the farm; every one followed him. Duchêne had just thrown a fresh log on to the fire. Those faces blackened with powder, still flushed with fighting, their garments torn by bayonets, some stained with blood, advancing from the shadowy darkness outside into the full light cast by the blazing fire, presented a singular and striking spectacle. Kasper had his forehead bound up with his handkerchief, having received a cut from a sabre. His bayonet, the front of his dress, and his long blue cloth gaiters were spotted with blood. As for old Materne, he, thanks to his imperturbable presence of mind, returned safe and sound from the strife and carnage. The remnants of the two troops of Jerôme and Hullin thus found themselves re-united. There were the same wild figures, inspired by the same energy and the same spirit of vengeance; only the latter, harassed by fatigue, were sitting right and left, on logs of wood, on the edge of the sink, on the low stones of the hearth, with their head between their hands, their elbows on their knees. Others were staring vacantly about them, and not being able to convince themselves of the disappearance of Hans, and Joson, and Daniel, were exchanging questions, which were followed by long intervals of silence. Materne's two sons were holding each other by the arm, as if they were afraid of losing one another, and their father, behind them, leaning against the wall, with his elbow resting on his gun, was regarding them with a contented air. "There they are; I see them," he seemed to be saying to himself; "they are famous fellows! They have both come off with whole skins." And the worthy man coughed gently behind his hand. If any one came to him to ask about Pierre, or Jacques, or Nicolas, he would answer at random: "Yes, yes; there are plenty of them down below there lying on their backs. But what would you have? It's the fortune of war. Your Nicolas has done his duty. You must console yourself with that." And in the meanwhile he was thinking to himself: "Mine are not left in the lurch; that's what I care about most." Catherine was laying the table, assisted by Louise. In a short time, Duchêne came up from the cellar with a barrel of wine on his shoulder, which he placed on the dresser; he tapped it, and then every one of the mountaineers brought his glass, his mug, or his jug, and filled it from the purple stream that glistened in the blazing light of the fire. "Eat and drink!" cried the good farm-mistress; "it is not over yet, and you've still need of all your strength. Here, Frantz, take down those hams for me. Here is bread, knives; and now sit down, my children." Frantz made a spit of his bayonet, and hung up the hams in the wide fire-place.