My mother pronounced the last word with a swelling heart, but nevertheless with firmness; for she let go my hand at the same time and pushed me towards the keeper.
I nodded to her, and rushed into the lower room, shouting:
"It is I, Charles!"
Charles recognised my voice, and ran up to me.
"Oh!" he said, "if only you had come a bit sooner.... Hutin has just gone."
Hutin was a playfellow of ours, of whom I shall have occasion to speak later, with reference to the Revolution of July and my expedition to Soissons, where, more fortunate than the generals Lallemand, I carried off the town's supply of powder.
"Oh! what a pity he has gone ... but we can play just the same without him, can't we?" I said.
"Certainly."
"All right, come on."
And we went into the lower hall.