When the last carriage had turned the Fouquet corner, all the crowd returned with bowed heads; and we in the room looked at each other, with no wish to continue the feast.
"You are not well, Moses," said Burguet. "What is the matter?"
"I am thinking of all the evils which are coming to the city."
"Bah! don't be afraid," he replied. "We shall be strongly defended! And then, God help us! what can't be cured must be endured! Come! cheer up; this old wine will keep up our spirits."
We resumed our places. I opened the bottle, and it was as Burguet said. The old Rousillon did us good, and we began to laugh.
Burguet called out:
"To the health of the little Esdras! May the Lord cover him with his right hand!"
And the glasses clinked. Some one exclaimed: "May he long rejoice the hearts of his grandfather Moses and his grandmother Sorlé! To their health!"
We ended by looking at everything in rose-color, and glorifying the Emperor, who was hastening to defend us, and was soon going to crush all the beggars beyond the Rhine.
But it is equally true that, when we separated about five o'clock, everybody had become serious, and Burguet himself, when he shook hands with me at the foot of the stairs, looked anxious.