"You are right. Sixteen-pound shot are wanting, as well as canister. They are breaking up the stoves to supply its place."
Some of the citizens, in their shirt-sleeves, were barricading their windows with heavy beams and mattresses; others were rolling tubs of water before their doors. Their enthusiasm excited Hullin's admiration.
"Good!" he cried, "good! The allies will be well received here!"
Opposite the college, the squeaking voice of the sergeant, Harmantier, was shrieking:
"Be it known that the casemates will be opened, to the end that each man may bring a mattress and two blankets; and moreover, that messieurs the commissioners are about to commence their round of inspection to see that each inhabitant has three months' provisions in his house, which he must show: Given this twentieth day of December, one thousand eight hundred and thirteen. Jean Pierre Meunier, Governor."
Strange scenes, both serious and comic, succeeded every minute.
Hullin was no longer the same man. Memories of the march, the bivouac, the rattle of musketry, the charge, the shout of victory, came rushing upon him. His eyes sparkled and his heart beat fast, and the thoughts of the glory to be gained in a brave defence, a struggle to the death with a haughty enemy, filled his brain.
"Good faith!" said he to himself, "all goes well! I have made clogs enough in my life, and if the time has come to shoulder the musket once more, so much the better. We will show these Prussians and Austrians that we have not forgotten the roll of the charge!"
Thus mused the brave old man, but his exultation was not of long duration.