People looking after him, said:
"He has gone to meet his lad, that's certain. Well, poor fellow, he has had plenty of trouble, now he is having his share of good luck!"
La Rousse being restive, Lumineau alighted in the railway yard, and stood at the head of the mare. Thence could be seen the perspective of lines going towards La Roche—the lines by which one son had left, and the other was so soon to return to La Fromentière. He had not long to wait. The train dashed into the station with a whistle; the farmer was still quieting the mare, terrified by the noise, when the passengers came thronging out: townspeople, men-of-war's men on leave, fishmongers from Saint Gilles or Sables, and lastly a smart Chasseur d'Afrique, slight and tall, his képi well balanced, fair moustaches waxed to a point, his knapsack full to bursting, who, after looking eagerly round the yard, smiled and ran out with widespread arms:
"Father! Ah! what luck, it's father!"
The bystanders, indifferently looking on, saw the two men embrace each other with a strong, almost suffocating pressure.
"My Driot!" exclaimed the old man. "How happy I am!"
"And I too, father!"
"No, not so happy as I am! If you only knew!"
"What, then?"
"I will tell you. Oh, my Driot, the joy of seeing you again!"