Materne had half a mind to fire, but he was afraid, as the horse was going at such a furious pace. They were no sooner in the midst of the enemy's bayonets than Riffi vanished out of sight. Every one thought he had been massacred; an hour after, however, they saw him passing down the principal street of Grandfontaine with his hands tied behind his back, and corporal _schlague_ behind him with his uplifted cane. Poor Riffi! he alone was not fated to share in the day's triumph; and his comrades were even led to laugh at his unhappy fate, just as if it had happened to a _Kaiserlick_. Such is the nature of men; provided they are happy themselves, the misery of others concerns them but little. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 9: Drum-major.] CHAPTER XVI. The mountaineers were almost beside themselves with joy at their victory; they wrung each other's hands, lauded each other to the skies, and looked upon themselves as the most renowned of heroes. Catherine, Louise, Doctor Lorquin, every one had gone out of the farm, shouting, congratulating themselves, looking at the traces of the balls, the mounds blackened by the powder; then at Joseph Larnette, with his fractured skull, lying extended in his trench; Baumgarten, with his arm hanging helpless by his side, on his way to the hospital, looking as pale as death; and Daniel Spitz, who, in spite of his sword-cut, wanted to stay and go on fighting; but the doctor would not listen to this, and forced him to return to the farm. Louise came with the little cart and distributed brandy to the combatants; and Catherine Lefévre, on the edge of the ascent, stood looking upon the dead and wounded lying thickly scattered along the road, which was tracked with their blood. There they lay, poor fellows, young and old, all heaped indiscriminately together, with faces as white as wax, eyes staring wide open, and outstretched arms. Some few tried to rise, and instantly fell heavily back; others were looking upwards, as if they were still afraid of being shot at; while some again were dragging themselves slowly along to get under shelter from the balls. Several seemed resigned to their fate, and only seeking a quiet place to die in, or else straining their eyes after their regiment returning to Framont; that regiment, with which they had quitted their native village, with which they had first made a long campaign, and which was now abandoning them to die! "Our comrades will see old Germany again," thought they; "and when the captain or the sergeant is asked, 'Did you know such a one: Hans, Kasper, Nickel of the 1st or 2nd company?' they will answer, 'Stay--it's very likely--had he not a scar on the ear, or on the cheek? Fair or brown hair, five or six feet in height? Yes, I know him. He is left in France, by the side of a little village whose name I don't remember. The mountaineers massacred him on the same day as the big major Yéri Peter; he was a brave lad. And so good night.'"