The Conservative Nouvelliste and the Radical-Socialist Progrès, which he just skimmed, gave exactly the same account; the first adding several criticisms on the carelessness of the intelligence department in Algiers, the second accompanying it with some humanitarian remarks on the uselessness of colonial expeditions. But all, whatever their political opinions might be, united in honoring the worth of Commander Guibert, praised his splendid career, and deplored his loss.
“That confounded schoolmaster!” cried the Mayor of Cognin.
He took up his hat and was going out. On the doorstep he stopped short. An officer on horseback in full uniform, wearing gold epaulettes, stopped in front of the Café National.
“Can you direct me to Madame Guibert’s house, please?”
A few countryfolk, drawn by curiosity, grouped themselves round the rider.
“Keep along the high road as far as the Vimines road. Then follow the path through the oakwood. After the wood turn to the left and that is Le Maupas.”
“Thank you,” said the officer, and he was already giving rein to his horse when the Mayor called out:
“You are going to visit the lady like that?”
The aide-de-camp glared scornfully at this red-faced individual, and spurring his horse replied between his teeth, “Naturally.”
“Good,” answered the innkeeper, to please the women who were listening to him. And he grew scarlet.