“We were to march I don’t know where. Oh, out of France!” with a broad sweep of arms, expressive of immensity.
“Big Lonlon was corporal.”
“And he made us call him general.”
They saw regretfully that the game was over, since monsieur and madame had appeared, and scattered like a flock of sparrows, Raoul, finding struggling of no use, watching them gravely with a small air of dignity. His mother’s heart began to beat more steadily.
“Raoul,” she remonstrated, softly, “how could you run away?”
He turned his dark eyes upon her.
“Because Jean was so dull, and the river was much nicer.”
“But you made poor father and mother so frightened!”
Léon interposed.
“Don’t scold the child, m’amie. It was natural enough, and just what I used to do at his age. I believe he has my very same old trumpet. Yes, yes, here’s the notch which I made one day when I banged Pierre’s head.”