"Oh! Do you imagine, Monsieur Morin," asked the merchant, smiling, "that you are not our 'good grandfather' as well? Do you imagine you do not belong to us, as well as to our dear George? As if our affections were not his own, and his own ours!"
"My God! My God!" exclaimed the old man, so moved with delight that tears filled his eyes. "What can I say to all that? It is too much—too much—all I can say is thanks, and weep. George, you who can talk, speak for me, do!"
"That is easy enough for you to say, grandfather," replied George, no less moved than Monsieur Morin.
"Father!" suddenly cried Sacrovir, stepping to the window. "Look! Look!"
And he added with exaltation:
"Oh, you brave and generous people of all peoples!"
At the call of the young man all rushed to the window.
The funeral ceremony being over, the boulevard was now free. At the head of a long procession of workingmen, there marched four members of their class carrying on their shoulders a species of shield decked with ribbons, in the middle of which a small casket of white wood was placed. Immediately behind followed a banner bearing the inscription:
LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!
LIBERTY—EQUALITY—FRATERNITY.
AN OFFERING TO THE FATHERLAND.
The people who lined the street shouted in transports of joy: