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 time as La Palud.  The masters joined the workmen.  There are some rich men there, Miette; men whose wealth would enable them to live peacefully at home, but who prefer to risk their lives in defence of liberty.  One can but admire them.  Weapons are very scarce, however; they’ve scarcely got a few fowling-pieces.  But do you see those men yonder, Miette, with red bands round their left elbows?  They are the leaders.”

The contingents descended the hill more rapidly than Silvere could speak.  While he was naming the men from Saint-Martin-de-Vaulx, two battalions had already crossed the ray of light which blanched the roadway.

“Did you see the insurgents from Alboise and Les Tulettes pass by just now?” he asked.  “I recognised Burgat the blacksmith.  They must have joined the band to-day.  How they do run!”