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For three days they had been entirely without food on the Falkenstein, and Dives had given no signs of life. How often, during those long days of agony, did the mountaineers turn their eyes toward Phalsbourg! -- how often had they listened, fancying they could hear the smuggler's step, while the vague murmur of the wind alone filled the space!
The nineteenth day since the arrival of the partisans on the Falkenstein was passed amidst all the tortures of hunger. They no longer spoke; they remained crouched on the earth, with pinched faces, and lost in endless reveries. Sometimes they watched each other with sparkling eyes, as though about to devour one another, then relapsed into sullen calm.