d the young fellow's neck, resting her head against
his shoulder. And with the hood of her pelisse encircling her pale
face she gazed fixedly at that square patch of light as it was rapidly
traversed by those strange faces, transfigured by enthusiasm, with dark
open mouths full of the furious cry of the "Marseillaise." Silvere,
whom she felt quivering at her side, then bent towards her and named the
various contingents as they passed.

The column marched along eight abreast. In the van were a number of big,
square-headed fellows, who seemed to possess the herculean strength and
naive confidence of giants. They would doubtless prove blind, intrepid
defenders of the Republic. On their shoulders they carried large axes,
whose edges, freshly sharpened, glittered in the moonlight.

"Those are the woodcutters of the forests of the Seille," said Silvere.
"They have been formed into a corps of sappers. At a signal from their
leaders they would march as far as Paris, battering down the gates of
the towns with their axes, just as they cut down the old cork-trees on
the mountain."

The young man spoke with pride of the heavy fists of his brethren. And
on seeing a band of labourers and rough-bearded men, tanned by the
sun, coming along behind the woodcutters, he continued: "That is the
contingent from La Palud. That was the first place to rise. The men in
blouses are labourers who cut up the cork-trees; the others in velveteen
jackets must be sportsmen, poachers, and charcoal-burners living in the
passes of the Seille. The poachers knew your father, Miette. They have
good firearms, which they handle skilfully. Ah! if all were armed in the
same manner! We are short of muskets. See, the labourers have only got
cudgels!"

Miette, still speechless, looked on and listened. As Silvere spoke to
her of her father, the blood surged to her cheeks. Her face burnt as she
scrutinised the sportsmen with a strange air of mingled indignation and
sympathy. From this moment she grew animated, yielding to the feverish
quiver which the insurgents' songs awakened.

The column, which had just begun the "Marseillaise" afresh, was still
marching down as though lashed on by the sharp blasts of the "Mistral."
The men of La Palud were followed by another troop of workmen, among
whom a goodly number of middle class folks in great-coats were to be
seen.

"Those are the men of Saint-Martin-de-Vaulx," Silvere resumed. "That
_bourg_ rose almost at the same