"Well, sonny? Is that the way you welcome me home?"
He caught hold of a napkin and wiped his face with a great, wide gesture. Then he drew his wife to him:
"Kiss me, mother!... And you, Philippe! And you, Marthe!... And you too, my pretty Suzanne: once for myself and once for your father!... Don't cry, my child.... Daddy's all right.... They're coddling him like an emperor, over there ... until they let him go. And that's not far off. By Heaven, no! I hope the French government ..."
He was talking like a drunken man, too fast and in an unsteady voice. His wife tried to make him sit down. He protested:
"Rest? Quite unnecessary, mother. A Morestal never rests. My wounds? Scratches! What? The doctor? If he sets foot in this house, I'll chuck him out of the window!"
"Still, you ought to take something...."
"Take something? A glass of wine, if you like ... a glass of good French wine.... That's it, uncork a bottle.... We'll have a glass all round.... Your health, Weisslicht!... Oh, what a joke!... When I think of the face of Weisslicht, the special commissary of the imperial government!... The prisoner's gone! The bird's flown!"
He laughed loudly and, after drinking two glasses of wine, one on top of the other, he kissed the three women once more, kissed Philippe, called in Victor, Catherine, the gardener, shook hands with them, sent them away again and began to walk up and down the room, saying:
"No time to be lost, children! I met the sergeant of gendarmes on the Saint-Élophe road. The authorities have been informed.... They can be here within half an hour. I want to present a report. Take a pen, Philippe."