The officers seated themselves as usual, and Pichegru put Charles at his left.
Leblanc put on the extra plate and then went out.
Five minutes later he returned. He had found citizen Fenouillot just about to sit down to breakfast, but he had eagerly accepted the general's invitation. Consequently, he was following the messenger who had been sent for him; and, in fact, a moment after Leblanc had returned, some one knocked at the door, giving the Masonic raps.
Leblanc hastened to open it.
A man about thirty-five years of age stood upon the threshold, attired in the civilian's dress of that period—a pointed, broad-brimmed hat, a loose cravat, and a waistcoat with large lapels. He had on a brown coat with long skirts, tight, light-colored trousers and top boots; his complexion was fair and his hair curled naturally; he had brown eyebrows and whiskers, the latter half-hidden in his cravat. His eyes were bold, his nose was large and his lips were thin. As he entered the dining-room, Fenouillot hesitated slightly.
"Come in, citizen Fenouillot," said Pichegru, who had seen the hesitation, slight as it was.
"Upon my word," said the latter easily, "the thing was of so little consequence that I hesitated to believe that your kind invitation was intended for me."
"What of little consequence? Do you know that, with my allowance of five hundred francs a day, I should have to go three days without eating in order to afford fare like this? So sit down opposite me, citizen. Take your place!"
The two officers who were appointed to sit beside him moved their chairs and pointed to his. Citizen Fenouillot sat down, and the general cast a rapid glance at his snow-white linen and his carefully kept hands.
"And you were a prisoner when we entered Dawendorff?"