And all, saving Villemet, finished their ride in the best of spirits.
Next day came the parting.
CHAPTER X.—ENGLAND AND FRANCE UNITED.
Who could describe the pleasure felt by the Frenchmen as they gazed once more on the shores of their own dear country after so long an absence! Even Villemet lost his lugubrious looks, while his friend, brimming over with joy, seemed almost ready to leap into the sea to get there. He sprung about the deck, sang snatches of songs, laughed at every remark Villemet made even when there was nothing to laugh at, in fact, made himself somewhat ridiculous.
As soon as they landed, they instantly made arrangements to post straight away to their homes, which were not far apart from each other. Villemet’s came first; and there, as they drove up, a perfect swarm of younger
brothers and sisters came out to devour him; his old father and mother looking on behind with calmer but not less real delight. It was a pretty sight, and as Tournier drove away amid their joyful greetings, he could not help for the moment envying him, and contrasting the scene with that which was awaiting himself, with only one welcome—only one—but then that was the welcome of a mother!
He had to pass a well-known house; but as he drew near, he dashed down the blind, and turned away fiercely, till it was passed. “Dead!” he muttered.
The nearer he drew to his old home the more familiar were the objects that met his eye, till at last he spun through the gates, and up the drive, and almost leaping into the house, cried to the smiling servants, “Is she in her old room?”
And there he found her. She was pretty as ever, prettier than ever, as he thought.
“Mother, I have come to take care of you at last,” he said; “and to the last, thank God.”