"He is right," said he; "divide it into eight portions!"
Hullin could see no more; he withdrew to the house of the innkeeper, Wittman, opposite, as pale as death. Wittman was also a dealer in leather and furs. On seeing him enter, he exclaimed:
"What! is that you, Master Jean-Claude?—you come earlier than usual; I did not expect you till next week."
Then, seeing him stagger, he continued:
"But, what is it? There is something the matter?"
"I have just been seeing the wounded."
"Oh! I see; the first time—I know it makes you feel queer; but if you had seen fifteen thousand of them go by, as we have, you'd think nothing of it."
"A pint of wine—quick!" said Hullin, who felt himself turning sick. "Oh, men, men—and we call ourselves brothers!"
"Yes, brothers; as far as the pocket is considered," replied Wittman. "Here, take a drink, it will set you right."
"And do you mean to tell me you have seen fifteen thousand such go by?"