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.