“Yes, I know, what Uncle Leopold always says,” he struck in impatiently, with a cynical smile in the deep corners of his mouth. “Hold on to the Thalers and the rest will take care of itself.”
There was a melancholy smile on the mother’s benign face. Everything Albert said sounded clever to her ears but she did not like to hear him jest about Uncle Leopold. Leopold was very good to her indeed, as he had always been in the past.
“What will you do in Paris?”
“March and sing the Marseillaise,” he said, laughing.
“Will you ever be serious?”
“It’s because I am too serious that I jest, my little mother.” He kissed her on both cheeks.
The mother sighed; a tear was slowly rolling down her face.
Albert flung his arms around his mother, embraced his sister, kissed her little son, and rushed out of the house. His tears and emotions were choking him.
Outside the sun was shining brightly, light clouds in the sky. It was the first of May, fresh, earth-scented odors in the air. A stolid sluggish fellow, with a large, heavy basket on his head, walked past Albert as he came out of his mother’s house. Albert looked after the fellow and sighed. Will Michel ever quicken his step? Ah, the poor Michel! Albert’s heart was wrung with pain. Presently an officer loomed up in the distance. Albert jumped into the vehicle that was waiting for him at the curb.
“Aux armes, citoyens, aux armes!” he murmured to himself as the vehicle rattled away.