"They can see now that the Frenchmen are for the Revolution, and that the others cannot hold out. Everybody says, 'Down with the émigrés.' What a lesson for those who can see clearly! Those Bourbons wanted to make us all Vendéeans, they ought to rejoice that they have succeeded so well."
But one thing troubled him still, that was the great battle which was announced between Ney and Napoleon.
"Although Ney has kissed the hand of the King, yet he is an old soldier, and I will never believe that he will fight against the will of the people. No, it is not possible, he will remember the old cooper of Saar-Louis, who would break his head with his hammer, if he were still living, on learning that Michel had betrayed the country in order to please the King."
That was what Mr. Goulden said, but that did not prevent people from being uneasy, when suddenly the news arrived that he had followed the example of the army and the bourgeoisie and all those who wished to be rid of the atonements, and that he had rallied with them. Then there was greater confidence, but still prudent men were silent in view of what might happen.
On the 21st of March, between five and six in the evening, Mr. Goulden and I were at work; it had begun to grow dark, and Catherine was lighting the lamp, a gentle rain was falling on the panes, when Theodore Roeber, who had charge of the telegraph, passed under our windows, riding a big dapple-gray horse at the top of his speed, his blouse filled out by the air, he went so fast, and he was holding his great felt hat on with one hand, while he kept striking his horse with a whip which he held in the other, though he was galloping like the wind. Father Goulden wiped the glass and leaned over to see better, and said:
"That is Roeber, who is coming from the telegraph, some great news has arrived." His pale cheeks reddened, and I felt my heart beat violently. Catherine came and placed the lamp near us, and I opened the window to close the shutter. That took me some moments, as I was obliged to disarrange the glasses on the work-table, and take down the watches before I could do it. Mr. Goulden seemed lost in thought. Just as I had fastened the window, we heard the assembly beat from both sides of the city at once, from the bastion of the Mittelbronn and from Bigelberg, the echoes from the ramparts and from the target valley responded, and a dull rumbling filled the air, Mr. Goulden rose, saying:
"The matter is decided at last," in a tone which made me shudder. "Either they are fighting near Paris, or the Emperor is in his old palace as he was in 1809."
Catherine ran for his cloak, for she saw plainly he was going out in spite of the rain. He was speaking with his great gray eyes wide open, and took no notice as she slipped on the sleeves, and as he went out Catherine touched me on the shoulder—I was still sitting—and said:
"Go, Joseph, follow him."
We reached the square just as the battalion filed out of the broad street at the corner by the mayor's, behind the drummers, who had their drums over their shoulders. A great crowd followed them. When they reached the great lindens, the drums recommenced, and the soldiers hurriedly got into their ranks, and almost immediately the Commandant Gémeau, who was suffering from his wounds and had not been out for two months appeared on the steps of the "Minque." A sapper held his horse by the bridle, and gave him his shoulder to mount. Everybody was looking on, and the roll commenced. The commandant crossed the square, and the captains went quickly up to meet him; he said a few words to them, and then passed in front of the battalion, followed by a sergeant with three chevrons, who carried a flag in its oil-cloth case. The crowd increased every moment. Mr. Goulden had mounted on the stone posts in front of the arch of the guard-house. After the roll was called, the commandant waited a moment and then drew his sword and gave the order to form a square. I tell you these things in a simple way, because they were simple and terrible.