"Near Paris! They! The rascals!" he faltered out.
Suddenly, with a bad look on his face, he gave a low laugh and said:
"Ah! thou meanest to take Phalsburg, dost thou? Thou meanest to return to thy land of sauerkraut with palms of victory? He! he! he! I have given thee thy palms of victory!"
He made the motions of pricking with his bayonet as he spoke, "One—two—hop!"
It made us all tremble only to look at him.
"Yes, Father Moses, so it is," said he, emptying his glass by little sips. "I have nailed this sort of an apothecary to the door of the tile-kiln. He made up a funny face—his eyes starting from his head. His Aurelia will have to expect him a good while! But never mind! Only, Madame Sorlé, I assure you that it is a lie. You must not believe a word he says. The Emperor will give it to them! Don't be troubled."
I did not wish to go on. I felt myself grow cold, and I finished the letter quickly, passing over three-quarters of it which contained no information, only compliments for friends and acquaintances.
The sergeant himself had had enough of it, and went out soon afterward, saying, "Good-night! Throw that in the fire!"
Then I put the letter aside, and we all sat looking at each other for some minutes. I opened the door. The sergeant was in his room at the end of the passage, and I said, in a low voice:
"What a horrible thing! Not only to kill the father of a family like a fly, but to laugh about it afterward!"