The room was crowded, and I suddenly felt comforted by the atmosphere of tobacco and anise, the stir and movement. I lost the immediate sense of my grief, I was even able to perceive distinctly that something solemn and unusual was going on. A decision of capital importance had been arrived at, and from the way they were talking it seemed to me that this was one of those historic events that by and by boys would study in school. Grandfather was the object of a thousand testimonials of honour and admiration. They were crowding around him, congratulating him, shaking hands with him, though this he resisted. And champagne was being brought—highest favour! Champagne on a day like this! I began to feel deeply moved, all the more that no one offered me any.
“A goblet!” cried Martinod, that dear Martinod who certainly was good to me; “a goblet for the little fellow!”
And lifting high his own, with a grand gesture he proclaimed,
“To the election of Father Rambert! To the victory of the Republic!”
“Bravo!” exclaimed the faithful Galurin.
Callus and Merinos were overflowing with happiness: no doubt they were foreseeing that era of Beauty which they had so often anticipated in my hearing. As for Casenave, he was supporting the weight of his head with both hands, his vague eyes perhaps fixed upon some vision. The barmaid was inclining the bottle over his glass: he may have seen in her one of those beautiful ladies in empire gowns who used to come down through the ceiling of his garret to give him drinks and visit him openly.
“Ziou!” he exclaimed, sitting up.
As he gazed upon the frothing beverage, and the golden stream, he was seized with a convulsive shudder. His trembling hands failed to grasp the goblet, and he hiccoughed with impotent greed.
Grandfather alone showed no enthusiasm nor even pleasure. His ill-humour was evident. He found small enjoyment in popularity or applause. All this open-mouthed, drinking, shouting crowd got on his nerves. I am sure he would rather have been somewhere else—in the country—for instance, eating strawberries and sweet cream. Still, he was constrained to yield before the general enthusiasm.
“After all, it is perhaps well,” he conceded. “No tyrants, above all; liberty!”