Old Duchêne, with his cotton night-cap in his hand, stood by the fire stammering:
"Gracious Lord—is it possible? my poor child—how changed he is!"
He had brought Gaspard up, and always pictured him since his departure fresh and ruddy-cheeked, in a handsome uniform with red facings. It deranged all his ideas to see him otherwise.
At this moment Hullin, raising his voice, said:
"And we, Gaspard, all of us, your old friends, have you nothing to say to us?"
Then the brave fellow turned round, and uttered a shout of recognition:
"Hullin! Doctor Lorquin! Materne! Frantz! all! they are all here!"
And the embracings began again, but this time more joyously, mingled with shouts of laughter and hearty hand-shakings, that seemed as if they would never come to an end.
"Ah! Doctor, is that you? Ah! my old Papa Jean-Claude!"