"An ass! There's only one man who isn't crying like the others.... But M. Morestal would never consent.... They're not friends."
"Who is that?"
"The school-master."
"Let them obey him, then!... The school-master will do!... Let him give orders in my husband's name."
The wish to save Morestal any annoyance gave her a sudden authority. And she pushed everybody out, to the stairs, to the hall:
"There, go away, all of you.... Gridoux, go back to the town-hall...."
"Yes, that's it," said Saboureux, gripping the gamekeeper's arm, "go back to Saint-Élophe, Gridoux, and send the soldiers to me, eh? Let them defend me, hang it all! The Uhlans will burn down everything, my house, my barn!"
They all went out in high excitement. Philippe was able for a long time to distinguish Farmer Saboureux's exclamations through the garden window. And the picture of all those anxious, noisy people, drunk with talk and action, rushing from side to side in obedience to unreasoning impulses, that picture suggested to him a vision of the great mad crowds which the war was about to let loose like the waves of a sea.
"Come on," he said. "It's time to act."