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When Hulot returned to his men with an anxious look, Beau-Pied, a young sergeant who passed for the wit of his company, remarked in a low voice: "Where the deuce have we poked ourselves that an old trooper like Hulot should pull such a gloomy face? He's as solemn as a council of war." Hulot gave the speaker a stern look, silence being ordered in the ranks.
"Don't you see the Blues?" she cried sharply. "Come here, you little scamp, or I shall be after you. Do you want to be shot? Come, hide, quick!" While these things took place rapidly a Blue jumped into the marshy courtyard. "Beau-Pied!" exclaimed Mademoiselle de Verneuil. Beau-Pied, hearing her voice, rushed into the cottage, and aimed at the count.
"Beau-Pied, my friend; you have too much imagination for a soldier; you ought to be making songs at the national Institute." "If I've too much imagination," retorted Beau-Pied, "you haven't any; it will take you some time to get your degree as consul." A general laugh put an end to the discussion, for Clef-des-Coeurs found no suitable reply in his pouch with which to floor his adversary.
They then divided into groups, to whom two peasants began to distribute butter and rye-bread. The marquis appeared in the portico to welcome the officers and take them to the salon. As Gerard went up the steps he looked at both ends of the portico, where some venerable larches spread their black branches; and he called up Clef-des-Coeurs and Beau-Pied.
"Yes, yes, you canting hypocrite," cried Clef-des-Coeurs; "go and make your report to that Virgin of yours. Didn't he shout in our faces, 'Vive le roi! when we thought him cooked?" "Here are his papers, commandant," said Beau-Pied. "Ho! ho!" cried Clef-des-Coeurs. "Come, all of you, and see this minion of the good God with colors on his stomach!"
The carriage now advanced rapidly, leaving the escort to follow slowly towards the manor-house, the gray roofs of which appeared and disappeared among the trees. Some of the men lingered on the way to knock the stiff clay of the road-bed from their shoes. "This is devilishly like the road to Paradise," remarked Beau-Pied.
"Your German pipe?" "Done!" "By your leave, adjutant, isn't that thing an emblem, and not a problem?" said Clef-des-Coeurs, following Gerard, who was thoughtfully walking away. "It is both," he replied, gravely. "The adjutant was making fun of you," said Beau-Pied. "That paper means that our general in Italy is promoted Consul, which is a fine grade, and we are to get shoes and overcoats."
"Look at that, Clef-des-Coeurs," said Beau-Pied; "it would take you a hundred years to find out what that accoutrement is good for." "What should I know about the Pope's uniform?" replied Clef-des-Coeurs, scornfully. "You worthless bog-trotter, you'll never learn anything," retorted Beau-Pied.
As none of them could read, they gazed at it, some with a careless eye, others with curiosity, while two or three hunted about for a citizen who looked learned enough to read it to them. "Now you tell us, Clef-des-Coeurs, what that rag of a paper says," cried Beau-Pied, in a saucy tone to his comrade. "Easy to guess," replied Clef-des-Coeurs.
"I'll send Beau-Pied to let you know when to play your sabres. Try to meet the marquis yourself, and if you can manage to kill him, so that I sha'n't have to shoot him judicially, you shall be a lieutenant in a fortnight or my name's not Hulot." Gudin departed with a dozen soldiers. "Do you know what you have done?" said Corentin to Mademoiselle de Verneuil, in a low voice.
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