It might have been half-past seven, when footsteps were heard at the gate. The watch-dog sprang forward growling, listened for a moment, sniffed the air, and then quietly returned to his bone.
"It is some one belonging to the farm," said Annette; "Michel knows him."
At the same moment old Duchene exclaimed:
"Good-evening, Master Jean-Claude! You are back."
"Yes--from Phalsbourg, and I will remain here a few moments to rest before going to the village. Is Catherine at home?"
"She is within," replied Duchene. And brave Jean-Claude entered into the bright light, his broad hat drawn over his eyes, and the roll of sheepskin upon his shoulder.
"Good-evening, my children," said he, "good-evening. Always at work, I see."
"Yes, Monsieur Hullin," answered Jeanne, laughing. "If we had nothing to do, life would be tiresome indeed."
"True, my dear, true. There is nothing like work for giving rosy cheeks and shining eyes."
Jeanne was about to reply when the door opened, and Catherine Lefevre advanced into the room. She cast an anxious glance on Hullin, as if to divine beforehand the news he was bringing.
"Yes, Catherine, and with good and ill tidings."
"Let us have them!" exclaimed she, presenting a seat to the sabot-maker, as he deposited his roll upon the table.
"Well, the news from Gaspard is good; the boy is well, although he has had a hard time of it; so much the better--hardship strengthens youth. But the war goes badly, badly!"
He shook his head as he spoke, and the old woman, seating herself in her arm-chair directly in front of him, fixed her eyes upon his.
"Then the allies are in France; the war is to be brought home to us?"
"Yes, Catherine; we may any day expect to see the enemy in our mountains."
"I feared it--I was sure of it--but go on, Jean-Claude."
Hullin, in a low voice, proceeded to relate all he had seen and heard; he told of the works around the city, the proclamation of the state of siege, the wagons loaded with wounded on the Place d'Armes, and his meeting with the old sergeant. From time to time he paused, and the old lady half-closed her eyes, as if graving his words upon her memory, and when Hullin spoke of the wounded she gasped:
At the end of the sabot-maker's sorrowful story there was a long pause. How many bitter thoughts were burning in the minds of both! At last Catherine broke the silence: