The Maternes had stopped on the edge of the rock, and those three tall red fellows, their felt hats pushed back, their powder-flask on their hip, carbine on shoulder, long muscular legs firmly planted on the solid point of the rock, formed a strange and striking group. Old Materne, with outstretched hand, was pointing out at a distance, very far off, an almost imperceptible white speck in the middle of the fir forests, saying: "Do you know what that is, boys?" And they all three looked at it with half-closed eyes. "It is our house," replied Kasper. "Poor Magrédel!" replied the old huntsman, after a moment's silence. "How uneasy she must have been for the last week! What vows has she not offered up for us to Saint Odile!" Just at this moment, Marc Divès, who was in front, uttered a cry of surprise. "Dame Lefévre," said he, suddenly stopping short, "the Cossacks have set fire to your farm!" Catherine received this news with the utmost calmness, and advanced to the very edge of the terrace; Louise and Jean-Claude followed her. The bottom of the abyss was covered with a thick white cloud; through this cloud was to be seen a bright spark in the direction of Bois-des-Chênes, and nothing more; but at intervals, when there was a gust of wind, the fire was distinctly visible. The two tall black gables, the haystack on fire, the little stables with flames bursting from them; then all disappeared again. "'Tis already nearly over," said Hullin, in a low voice. "Yes," replied the old farm-mistress, "there goes forty years of labour and toil; but no matter--they cannot burn our good lands, the broad meadows of the Eichmath. We will set to work again. Gaspard and Louise will put that all right. I do not repent of what I have done." After about a quarter of an hour, there was a regular volley of sparks, and then the whole lay in ruins. The black gables alone were left standing. They then resumed their way up the steep and rocky footpath. As they reached the upper terrace, they heard the sharp voice of Hexe-Baizel: "Is it you, Catherine?" she exclaimed. "Ah! I never thought that you would come and see me in my poor hole." Hexe-Baizel and Catherine Lefévre had formerly been school-fellows together, so they now addressed each other in a familiar manner. "Nor I either," replied the old farm-mistress; "but no matter, Baizel, in misfortune we are always glad to meet with an old friend of our childhood." Baizel seemed touched by the remark. "All that is here, Catherine, is yours," she exclaimed--"all!" She pointed to her poor stool, her besom of green broom, and the five or six billets of wood on her hearth. Catherine looked around for some moments in silence, and said: "It is not much, but it is solid; one comfort, they will not burn your house down." "No, they will not burn it," said Hexe-Baizel, with a laugh; "they would want a large quantity of wood even to warm it a little. He! he! he!"