"Sergeant."
Half-past eight struck, I got up.
"Oh! how I should like to pack for you!" said my cousin.
We embraced. They entrusted me with many friendly messages for my father, whom they had not seen for ten years, and went with me as far as the railings, where the last farewells were said.
As I went away, I heard the doctor murmur:
"The beginning of the bad times."
And my cousin:
"Poor boy!"
These words bore me company. I thought involuntarily that in this separation from people who loved me, and perhaps the only ones who loved me, there must be something deep and heart-rending, of which I was still unconscious, but which one day would fill me with emotion.