Somewhat pretentious, it had a great effect on Alfred and the old deputy. The boy brought Machurot back, and it was put into his hands.
The old dog was as drunk as a pig, but he declaimed it, all the same, head-in-air, scanning all the syllables but breathing out of time. They traced a detailed route on the paper, for him, and let him loose in the growing dusk.
The news had spread. Peasants began to come for information on their way home from the fields. They arrived with lagging footsteps.
"It's true we're going to fight?"
"Rather!"
Alfred took them to see the telegram, lit up now by a lantern.
"Just look at that and see if it's nonsense!"
"When do we leave?"
"That depends. You've only got to look at your record book."
Those who had gone on to get it at home, pulled it out, opened it, and consulted the number.