It made one's hair stand on end.
I had just risen, and was lighting a lamp, when we heard two knocks at our door.
"Come in!" said Sorlé, trembling.
The sergeant opened the door. He was in marching equipments, with his gaiters on his legs, his large gray cap turned up at the sides, his musket on his shoulder, and his sabre and cartridge-box on his back.
"Father Moses," said he, "go back to bed and be quiet: it is the battalion call at the barracks, and has nothing to do with you."
And we saw at once that he was right, for the drums did not come up the street two by two, as when the National Guard was called in.
"Thank you, sergeant," I said.
"Go to sleep!" said he, and he went down the stairs.
The door of the alley below slammed to. Then the children, who had waked up, began to cry. Zeffen came in, very pale, with her baby in her arms, exclaiming, "Mercy! What is the matter?"
"It is nothing, Zeffen," said Sorlé. "It is nothing, my child: they are beating the call for the soldiers."