“The Haramont National Guard have come for the guns.”
Fortier jumped as if he meant to fly at the guardsmen.
Judging that this was the nick for his appearance, Pitou approached, backed by his lieutenant and sergeant.
“These rogues,” cried the abbe, passing from white to red, “these scums!”
The mayor was a neutral who wanted things to go on quietly; he had no wish to quarrel with the altar or the guard-house; the invectives only called forth his hearty laugh.
“You hear how the reverend gentleman treats the Haramont National Guards,” he said to Pitou and his officers.
“Because he knew us when boys and does not think we have grown up,” said Ange, with melancholy mildness.
“But we have become men,” roughly said Maniquet, holding out towards the priest his hand, maimed by a gun going off prematurely while he was poaching on a nobleman’s warren. Needless to say he was determined the nobility should pay for this accident.
“Serpents,” said the schoolmaster in irritation.
“Who will sting if trodden on,” retorted Sergeant Claude, joining in.