Old Duchêne, with his cotton cap in his hands, stammered out by the fireplace,—"Lord! is it possible? My poor child! What does he look like?"
He had brought up Gaspard, and always fancied him, ever since his departure, fresh and ruddy in a beautiful uniform with red facings. It completely deranged his ideas to see him otherwise.
At that moment Hullin, raising his voice, said,—"And the rest of us, Gaspard,—thy old friends—art thou not going to take notice of us?"
Then the brave fellow turned round and exclaimed with enthusiasm,—"Hullin! Doctor Lorquin! Materne! Frantz! Why, they are all here!"
And the embraces recommenced, but this time more joyously, with shouts of laughter and shaking of hands that seemed endless.
"Ah, doctor, it is you! Ah, my old father, Jean-Claude!"
They looked closely at each other, with bright, beaming faces, and went arm-in-arm up and down the great room; and Mother Catherine with the knapsack, Louise with the gun, and Duchêne with the shako, followed them, laughing and drying their cheeks and eyes—nothing had ever been seen like it before.
"Let us sit down and drink!" exclaimed Doctor Lorquin. "This is the bouquet of the feast."
"Ah, my poor Gaspard, how happy I am to behold thee safe and sound," said Hullin. "Ha, ha! Without flattery, I like thee better as thou art now than with thy great red cheeks. Parbleu! thou art a man now. Thou remindest me of the old fellows of my time, those of the Sambre and Egypt—ha, ha, ha! we had not round noses, we were not sleek and fat; we looked like lean rats watching a cheese, and our teeth were long and white!"
"Yes, yes, that does not surprise me, Papa Jean-Claude. Come, let us sit down; we can talk more at ease. Ah, now, why are you all at the farm?"