“What a man!” cried Hulot. “It is just as it was in the army of Italy—he rings in the mass, and he says it himself. Don’t you call that talking, hey?”
“Yes, but he speaks by himself and in his own name,” said Gerard, who began to feel alarmed at the possible results of the 18th Brumaire.
“And where’s the harm, since he’s a soldier?” said Merle.
A group of soldiers were clustered at a little distance before the same proclamation posted on a wall. As none of them could read, they gazed at it, some with a careless eye, others with curiosity, while two or three hunted about for a citizen who looked learned enough to read it to them.
“Now you tell us, Clef-des-Coeurs, what that rag of a paper says,” cried Beau-Pied, in a saucy tone to his comrade.
“Easy to guess,” replied Clef-des-Coeurs.
At these words the other men clustered round the pair, who were always ready to play their parts.
“Look there,” continued Clef-des-Coeurs, pointing to a coarse woodcut which headed the proclamation and represented a pair of compasses,—which had lately superseded the level of 1793. “It means that the troops—that’s us—are to march firm; don’t you see the compasses are open, both legs apart?—that’s an emblem.”
“Such much for your learning, my lad; it isn’t an emblem—it’s called a problem. I’ve served in the artillery,” continued Beau-Pied, “and problems were meat and drink to my officers.”
“I say it’s an emblem.”