At the bottom of the valley of the Bouleaux, about two gun-shots from the village of Charmes, on the left, the little troop began to ascend slowly the footpath of the old _burg_. Hullin, remembering that he had followed the same road when he went to buy powder of Marc Divès, could not help a feeling of deep sadness from stealing over him. Then, in spite of his journey to Phalsbourg, in spite of the spectacle of the wounded of Hanau and of Leipzic, in spite of the old sergeant's recital, he despaired of nothing; he preserved all his energy, and had no fear of the success of the defence. How all was lost: the enemy was descending on Lorraine, the mountaineers were flying. Marc Divès was riding slowly by the side of the wall through the snow; his big horse, accustomed, no doubt, to this journey, kept neighing, tossing up his head, and dropping it down again on his breast, in sudden jerks. The smuggler turned round in his saddle from time to time, to throw a glance back on the farm of Bois-des-Chênes they were quitting. Suddenly he exclaimed: "Hi! here are the Cossacks in sight!" At this exclamation all the troops halted to look about. They were already a good way up the mountain, above the village and even the farm of Bois-des-Chênes. The gray wintry dawn was dispersing the mists of morning, and amid the recesses of the mountain were visible the forms of several Cossacks, with head erect, pistol in hand, approaching at a slow pace the old homestead. They were advancing cautiously, and seemed as if they feared a surprise. A few moments after, others appeared in sight, ascending the valley of the Houx, then others still, and all in the same attitude, standing up in their stirrups, to see as far off as possible, like men who are hoping to discover something. The first comers, having passed the farm and observing nothing threatening, waved their lances and wheeled half-round. All the others then galloped up to the spot, like crows following one of their number who has taken wing, supposing he has just discovered a prey. In a few seconds the farm was surrounded, the door opened. Two minutes later, there was a crashing of glass, and out through the windows came furniture, mattrasses, and linen tumbling about in all directions. Catherine, with her hooked nose drawn down to her very lip, looked calmly on this scene of ravage. For a long time she said nothing, but suddenly seeing Yégof, whom she had not perceived until then, strike Duchêne with the butt of his lance, and push him out of the farm, she could not restrain a cry of indignation: "Oh! the brute! What a coward he must be to strike a poor old man, who cannot defend himself. Ah! the wretch!" "Come, Catherine," said Jean-Claude, "we've seen enough of it; there's no good in feasting your eyes on that!" "You are right," said the old farm-mistress; "let us go: I should be tempted to go down among them to avenge myself single-handed."