He had seen that Pitou would be the best confidant to place before his patient’s eyes as soon as they opened to life and reason.
He was able with the first words to reassure her upon Isidore’s health. There was no rioting in Paris and the young noble had gone off to Italy as a messenger.
He was sure to write to Catherine, she said, and she authorized him to go to the post for the letter.
As Pitou on the farm ate and drank with his accustomed appetite Billet did not suspect the treacherous part he was playing.
Consoled by the progress the girl made after the receipt of the beloved letter, Pitou was enabled to proceed with his public work.
With the money Gilbert gave him, he equipped the Haramont National Guards with new suits; this was for the ceremony of the Federation of Villers Cotterets and other villages of the canton, to be held on a following Sunday.
At this prospect of uniforms, the Guards assembled with their two minstrels and gave their liberal leader a serenade, interspersed with fire-crackers and cheers, among which was to be heard a voice or two, slightly tipsy, shouting:
“Long live Pitou, the Hero of the People!”
Remembering the impression the Haramont National Guard had created when they had hats alike, you can appreciate the justice in the roar of admiration when they appeared in uniforms, and what a dashing air the captain must have worn, with his little cap cocked over one ear, his gorget shining on his breast, his catspaws, as the epaules were irreverently called, and his sword.
Aunt Angelique could hardly identify her nephew who almost rode her down on his white horse.