After having hesitated for a time as though his voice was chained by awe, the young officer imitated the example set him, and three times called out:
"Farmer Billet!"
No voice responded.
"For sure he is dead," groaned he, wiping with his sleeve the tears flowing from his eyes: "Poor Farmer Billet!"
At this moment, two men came along, bearing a corpse towards the river.
"Mild, I fancy our stiff one gave a sigh," said the one who held the upper part of the body and was consequently nearer the head.
"Pooh," laughed the other: "if we were to listen to all these fellows say, there would not be one dead!"
"Citizens, for mercy's sake," interrupted the young officer, "let me see the man you are carrying."
"Oh, willingly, officer," said the men.
They placed the dead in a sitting posture for him to examine it. Bringing the lantern to it, he uttered a cry. In spite of the terrible wound disfiguring the face, he believed it was the man he was seeking.