Without turning his eyes from La Fromentière Driot replied, after a silence, and without naming those of whom he was thinking:
"I will go and see them at La Roche ... of course I will ... but brotherhood is not altogether the same when one has broken from the old place...."
An instant later he was holding Rousille, who had run out into the courtyard to meet him, high in his arms, looking her full in the face, into the very depth of her eyes, with the gaze of a brother whose military experience has made him somewhat suspicious of maidenly virtue; but seeing that her eyes met his in all frankness, but with something of a sad expression, he kissed her, and set her down on terra firma again.
"Always the same, little sister! That's good; but a little sorry at having lost Lionore, eh?"
"You can see that?"
"Ah well! But I have come now. We will try to get on without them, won't we?"
"And I?" put in a thick voice.
The soldier left Rousille, and hastened to Mathurin who was coming towards them; dragging his limbs after him.
"Do not hurry, old man! I must do the running for both; I have sound legs."
Stooping over his crutches, and stroking his elder brother's tawny head, André could find no words of comfort. Coming fresh from a military centre where all was young, active, alert, he could not hide the distress and a certain feeling of horror with which Mathurin's infirmity inspired him. However, compelled by the other's anxious look, which seemed to ask, "What do you think of me?—you who come back, judge—can I live?" he hastened to say: