Lasvene took them in with a simple "yes." They were all very weary.

Jacques had done all in his power to protect his little sister, who was not in the least frightened, only curious.

The old man shook out some fresh straw, gave them each a great bowl of smoking soup, and said:

"Everything here is yours, eat and sleep."

And when all was quiet the old man brought out two guns, which he had kept in spite of Napoleon's edict. He sat down by the fire, and began to clean them.

Suddenly, he felt a hand--a small one--laid on his arm, and a voice said,

"What are you doing with your guns? Do you think there is any danger here?"

The old man hesitated for a reply, and the boy said,

"Show me how to manage them, it may be useful."

Lasvene hesitated a moment, but finally decided to teach little Jacques how to fire these long guns. The boy quickly grasped the movement. When he bit his first cartridge he made a wry face. When one is inexperienced the powder gets between the teeth.

"Once more," he said, "I am not quite sure yet."

When the clock struck three, Jacques could load the gun like any old grenadier, but he had not been permitted to fire it.

"Your mother is asleep and little sister too," the old man said.

Jacques did not persist.

"Now lie down, my boy, and get a little sleep."

At six o'clock in the morning--it was at that hour that Simon died--a pistol shot scattered the straw on the roof of the hut.

Lasvene rushed to the door and half opening it, cried:

"The Cossacks!"

He knew them well, for he had been in the campaign of 1805.

Jacques started to his feet, and Francoise, pale as death, clutched her little girl to her breast.

"They are only going by," said Lasvene. "They know there is nothing to pillage here."

Lasvene believed himself and his guests under his roof to be safe. He, therefore, threw open the door wide.

He saw about fifty Cossacks.

"I am not making any defence," he said, "what do you want?"

The old soldier said this reluctantly, for the blood leaped hot in his veins, but he had a woman and two children there.

The Cossacks sat still on their horses, and seemed to be waiting. For what were they waiting?

Suddenly and most incomprehensibly, from behind old Lasvene came two shots. Two Cossacks fell. Who had fired? He ran back into the hut.

Jacques stood near the chimney, looking at the guns which he had not fired. Who had?

These shots were answered by a furious clamor. A volley was fired into the cottage. Lasvene ran to the other side of the hut, and saw two men running away. It was these men who fired. Both were dressed like gipsies, but one was Cyprien, the lacquey of Monsieur de Talizac.

"We are lost!" thought Lasvene.

Instantly he pulled across the door his old oaken chest, and piled chairs and tables upon it, the bed, everything that was movable in the hut. Then, s.n.a.t.c.hing one gun, he said:

"We must fight. Take the other!"

The Cossacks were amazed, but they fired through the window.

"Now!" cried Lasvene, and an officer fell. Jacques handed him the other gun, and loaded the first.

Again a Cossack fell.

Francoise rushed to the old man's side.

"Save the children!" she cried.

"At the peril of your life?" he asked.

"Yes," was the reply of the devoted mother.

"Then take the other gun!"

Francoise obeyed.

"Come!" said the old man to Jacques.

"No," answered the boy, "they will kill mamma!"

"For Simon's sake!" cried Francoise.

Then Lasvene stooped to the ground, and with the aid of an iron ring lifted a trap door.

"Down with you!" said the old man. "It is a subterranean pa.s.sage, and leads to the Fongereues estate. You have a league to go. G.o.d guard you!"

Another deafening discharge of musketry. The mother sank on her knees.

"Save Francinette!" she moaned.

"They have killed my mother!" sobbed the boy.

"Go!" cried Lasvene, "they are coming in!"

He seized the little girl and put her in her brother's arms, and thrusting a pistol into the hands of the little fellow, he pushed him toward the trap door.