Hunger and fatigue had exhausted his energies. From that hill-top the bonfires were now distinctly visible all over that mountainous region. He looked at them with dull apathy.
Suddenly indistinct sounds fell upon his ears; then they shaped themselves into words. Some people seemed to be passing through the thick brushwood at the foot of the hill.
"Where shall we go! Oh, my God!"
"Let us go! We may find some place!"
"My knees are trembling! the baby is faint—"
"Give me the baby."
"Why do you lag behind so, daughter?"
"Mamma! I can't walk, my feet are all cut and bruised among the bushes!"
The voices were silent.
After a moment the interrupted conversation was resumed.
"It is burning still! Oh, how terribly it burns!"
"Woman, take care of the children first; thank God that we have escaped."
"What is this? Your head is bleeding again; you are shivering, husband." "It is nothing, the bandage has got loose."
"Here, let me fix it."
"Not now, no; let us go on! Run, there is no time to lose!"
The voices were silent again.
The surrounding conflagration blazed so fiercely now that it lit up the base of the hill. This sudden light revealed a painful scene. The speakers were a peasant and his wife. He was carrying an infant; blood was running from his forehead, down his face, and dropping upon the baby's head. Beside him was his wife; she held a little girl by the hand. The poor couple could scarcely keep their feet.
The darkness fell again, and again the voices spoke.
"Ah! how they massacred!"
"Ah! how they burned!"
"They spared nothing."
"O God! where shall we go now?"
"Mamma, I am hungry!"
