"Once at Algeria, you will forget all your vexations."
"Yes, yes; I'm an old trooper, Martial, and will face the Bedouins."
"Come, come, you'll soon recover your spirits. We'll farm and hunt together, and live together, or separate, just as you like. We'll bring up the children like honest people, and you shall be their uncle,—for we are brothers, and my wife is good at heart; and so we'll be happy, eh?" And Martial extended his hand to the Chourineur.
"So we will, Martial," was the reply; "and my sorrow will kill me, or I shall kill my sorrow."
"It will not kill you. We shall pass our days together; and every evening we will say, 'brother, thanks to M. Rodolph,'—that shall be our prayer to, him."
"Martial, you comfort me."
"Well, then, that is all right; and as to that stupid-dream, you will think no more of it, I hope?"
"Well, then, you'll come to us at four o'clock; the diligence goes at five."
"Agreed. But I will get out here and walk to the barrier at Charenton, where I will await M. Rodolph, that I may see him pass."