All wondered at the speed with which the provisions disappeared. The soldier's eyes often turned to his mother and Louise, and he smiled sadly as he gazed upon them; but all this was without losing time in his attack. The poor fellow was well-nigh famished, and old Duchene muttered, as he looked at him:
"Great heaven! No wonder that so many die of want!"
"But tell us, Gaspard," said Hullin, "without interrupting your breakfast, how comes it that you are here? We thought you on the banks of the Rhine, near Strasbourg."
"Aha! I understand you," replied Gaspard, with a knowing wink of the eye; "you mean that there are a good many deserters running about, don't you?"
"Such an idea in regard to you never struck me, and yet—"
"You would not be sorry to know that I am all right. Well, Father Jean-Claude, you are right; for whoever runs from roll-call when the Kaiserliks are in France, deserves to be shot. But look here."
Hullin took a paper which the young man held out to him and read:
"Twenty-four hours' leave is given
to the grenadier Gaspard Lefevre.
January 3d, 1814.
Gemeau,
Chief of Battalion."
"Very good," said the old man; "put it in your knapsack; you might lose it. You see, my friends," he continued gayly, "I know all about this thing called love. It is very good and very bad, but particularly bad for young soldiers who happen to be near their village after a campaign. They sometimes forget themselves and return to camp with three or four gendarmes showing them the way. I have seen it once or twice. But, now, as everything is in order, let us drink a glass to Gaspard's health. What say you, Catherine? The men from the Sarre may be here any moment, so we have no time to lose."