The review and march and
show were goodly, after their kind; and, by dint of money and wine, the
enthusiasm was greater than ever it had been; for it was joined to the
pathos of the expected departure. The Cure and the avocat kept within
doors; for they had talked together, and now that the day of fate was at
hand, and sons, brothers, fathers, were to go off on this far crusade,
a new spirit suddenly thrust itself in, and made them sad and anxious.
Monsieur De la Riviere was gloomy. Medallion was the one comfortable,
cool person in the parish. It had been his conviction that something
would occur to stop the whole business at the critical moment. He was
a man of impressions, and he lived in the light of them continuously.
Wisdom might have been expected of Parpon, but he had been won by Valmond
from the start; and now, in the great hour, he was deep in another theme
--the restoration of his mother to himself, and to herself.
At seven o'clock in the evening, Valmond and Lagroin were in the streets,
after they had marched their men back to camp.
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