At Zurich, at Olten and at Berne, they see the same things and more so as they approach France. Here, the manifestations are clamorous and very lively. Above all, the people speak French and shout: "Bravo les braves!"
However, they are not yet completely happy: they are not home! But they stretch and become more attentive to the surrounding country. Through the window they admire the Bernoise Alps blanketed with snow.
At Fribourg, a woman holds out a bouquet of flowers to Cochin, while her daughter presents him at the same time with a cup of steaming bouillon. They cannot understand why the crowd shouts so much. They cry also: "Vive la France!"
"Take it," say both the mother and daughter.
Patachon leans out the window.
"He cannot take them," he says, "because his arms are gone——"
The two step back as if to shrink away from this immense misfortune, but Patachon calls to them:
"Pass me the flowers and the cup—it is I who am his mother at present. Thank you, madame; thank you, ma petite—Allons, drink that, old brother. Is it too hot?"
The mother and child begin to cry, "Oh, the poor, the poor blessé."
Cochin stiffens as if proud of his wound——