The two proscripts embraced each other. Such is exile.
"What the deuce are they doing with you?" asked the General.
"What they are probably doing with you. These vagabonds are making me travel under the name of Vincent."
"And me," said Changarnier, "under the name of Leblanc."
"In that case they ought at least to have called me Lerouge," said Charras, with a burst of laughter.
In the meantime a group, kept at a distance by the police agents, had formed round them. People had recognized them and saluted them. A little child, whose mother could not hold him back, ran quickly to Charras and took his hand.
They got into the train apparently as free as other travellers. Only they isolated them in empty compartments, and each was accompanied by two men, who sat one at the side and the other facing him, and who never took their eyes off him. The keepers of General Changarnier were of ordinary strength and stature. Those of Charras were almost giants. Charras is exceedingly tall; they topped him by an entire head. These men who were galley sergeants, had been carabineers; these spies had been heroes.
Charras questioned them. They had served when quite young, from 1813. Thus they had shared the bivouac of Napoleon; now they ate the same bread as Vidocq. The soldier brought to such a sorry pass as this is a sad sight.
The pocket of one of them was bulged out with something which he was hiding there.
When this man crossed the station in company with Charras, a lady traveller said,—