"Well, citizen, and why have you stopped here?" demanded this apparition.
"Parbleu, citizen, that is just what I want to know!" ejaculated the émigré, a trifle taken aback. "The postilion took it into his head to pull up without orders, because he said he heard my little nephew crying—as you perceive."
"In truth, I do perceive it," returned the ancient drily, with his hand to his ear to catch La Vireville's reply through the all-pervading sound of sobbing. "And what is he crying for?"
Since La Vireville could hardly reply, "Because he is suddenly overcome with longing for his émigré father and his English grandfather in London, whither I am taking him," he said, much more tamely, "Because, citizen, he is tired, and perhaps a little hungry."
The old man bent his gaze upon Anne, who, looking up at that moment, suspended a howl to return the compliment. "Poor child!" he said unexpectedly. "You are in haste, citizen?"
"Oh, so-so," replied La Vireville. It did not seem altogether desirable to admit that he was, very much in haste.
"You have come from far?"
"Only from Caen this morning. Do you wish to see my papers, citizen procureur-syndic?" For the Chouan guessed that he spoke with that official—in less Republican phrase, the mayor.
"Presently," said the other. "For the moment I was going to suggest that as my daughter is, I know, preparing some excellent soup for déjeuner, and since the little boy is crying because he is hungry . . ."
"You are too kind, citizen," said La Vireville, at once touched, astonished, and full of a wish that he had not ascribed Anne's tears to a quite problematical appetite. "But I fear that, though not unduly pressed, we can hardly spare the time to get out. And indeed we have some food with us."