"You know, sergeant, that you will always have friends here. You will come and see us. If you need anything——"
"Yes, yes, I know it. You are true friends—excellent people!"
He shook my hand vehemently.
Then he took up his musket, and we were all following him, expressing our good wishes, when he turned, with tears in his eyes, and embraced my wife, saying:
"I must embrace you, too; there is no harm in it, is there, Madame Sorlé?"
"Oh, no!" said she, "you are one of the family, and I will embrace Zeffen for you!"
He went out at once, exclaiming in a hoarse voice, "Good-by! Farewell!"
I saw him go into his room at the end of the little passage.
Twenty-five years of service, eight wounds, and no bread in his old age! My heart bled at the thought of it.
About a quarter of an hour after, the sergeant came down with his musket. Meeting Sâfel on the stairs, he said to him, "Stay, that is for your father!"