"Welcome, my general!" cried Gaillard, rising up and throwing to one side the theatrical costume into which he was neatly fitting a patch.
"Not general yet, my little Gaillard," was the reply, as the two friends embraced warmly.
"How? Not a general yet?" exclaimed the actor. "Why, all the city is ringing with news of the victory of Wissembourg and the hero of Landau!"
"That may be, my friend, but I have not received my promotion, and, what is more, I am not expecting it. I shall be quite satisfied to have the convention send me to the front again, where there is work to be done."
"Bah! Is the convention mad that it overlooks our bravest and best officer?" exclaimed Gaillard in a tone of disgust.
"Wait until you have heard what I have to tell you, and then say whether I shall not be fortunate if permitted to return to my command, even if it be but one regiment."
"Danton is right," said Gaillard, when the colonel had finished his account of the day's proceedings. "Undoubtedly there is something behind all this; what it is, the future will show."
"In the mean time let us have something to eat," said Tournay; "I am as hungry as a wolf. Is there any food in the house?"
"An unusual supply," was Gaillard's answer. "We will dine in your honor, colonel, and though the convention has not seen fit to adorn your brow with laurels, I will make some amends by pledging your health in a glass of wine as good as any that can be found in Paris to-day."
"I shall be pleased to eat a dinner in any one's honor, for I have eaten nothing since daylight, and it is now four o'clock."