I can see us all now, standing there in the brilliant afternoon sunlight—Elizabeth murmuring between her sobs, "O God, don't take my husband!" little Jules clinging to her skirts, amazed at her distress, and happy, lighthearted, curly-headed baby Colette, chasing butterflies on the lawn in front of us!
II
August first.
The tocsin ceased, but the drum rolled on.
In a moment we had recovered from the first shock, and all went out to the highroad to hear the declaration. To H. and me it was already a thing of the past, but we wanted to see how the peasants would take it.
At Villiers as at Charly, it was the garde champetre who was charged with this solemn mission, and the old man made a most pathetic figure as he stood there with his drumsticks in his hand, his spectacles pushed back, and the perspiration rolling down his tanned and withered cheeks.
"What have you got to say?" queried one woman, who was too impatient to wait until all had assembled.
"Bien de bon—" was the philosophic reply, and our friend proceeded to clear his throat and make his announcement.
It was received in dead silence. Not a murmur, not a comment rose from the crowd, as the groups dispersed, and each one returned to his lodgings.
We followed suit, and I went with H. towards the servants' hall.