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Updated: June 18, 2025
As it whirled by, the driver shouted something at a stalwart forgeron, standing at the doorway of his smithy, and he passed it on to a loitering mealman and a lime-burner. A girl came slowly over the crest of a hill. Feeling her way with a stick, she paused now and then to draw in long breaths of sweet air from the meadows, as if in the joy of Nature she found a balm for the cruelties of Destiny.
"But suppose they fired at us 'stead of at His Excellency?" asked the mealman. "Then, mealman, you'd settle your account for lightweights sooner than you want." Duclosse twisted his mouth dubiously. He was not sure how far his enthusiasm would carry him. Muroc shook his shaggy head in mirth. "Well, 'tis true we're getting off to France," said the lime-burner.
It was Madelinette, who had come to the camp early to cook her father's breakfast. Without a word, the mealman turned, pulled his clothes about him with a jerk, and, pale and bewildered, started away at a run down the plateau. "He's going to the village," said the charcoalman. "He hasn't leave. That's court-martial!" Lajeunesse shook his head knowingly.
He drank slowly, holding his head far back, and as he brought it straight again, he swung on his heel, for two tears were racing down his cheeks. The mealman wiped his eyes in sympathy; the charcoalman shook his head at the blacksmith, as though to say, "Poor devil!" and Parpon straightway filled their glasses again. Madelinette took the flask to the old sergeant.
Recruits now arrived from other parishes, and besides those who came every night to drill, there were others who stayed always in camp. The lime-burner left his kiln, and sojourned with his dogs at Dalgrothe Mountain; the mealman neglected his trade; and Lajeunesse was no longer at his blacksmith shop, save after dark, when the red glow of his forge could be seen till midnight.
But the great comedy, so well played, had justified it. "Oh, His Excellency 'll keep his oath," said the mealman. "I'd take Elise Malboir's word about a man for a million francs, was he prince or ditcher; and she says he's the greatest man in the world. She knows." "That reminds me," said Lajeunesse gloomily, "Elise has the black fever."
You are right, smutty-face; I am Monsieur Talleyrand, Minister of the Crown." "The devil, you say!" cried the mealman. "Tut, tut!" said Lajeunesse, chaffing; "haven't you heard the news? The devil is dead!" The dwarf's hand went into his pocket. "My poor orphan," said he, trotting over and thrusting some silver into the blacksmith's pocket, "I see he hasn't left you well off.
Lord!" he cried, with feigned awe, getting to his feet at sight of the two. Then, to his comrades, "Children, children, off with your hats! Here is Monsieur Talleyrand, if I'm not mistaken. On to your feet, mealman, and dust your stomach. Lajeunesse, wipe your face with your leather. Duck your heads, stupids!" With mock solemnity the three greeted Parpon and Lagroin.
The mealman's face seemed to petrify, his eyes stood out, the bread he had in his teeth dropped, and he stared wildly at Lajeunesse. All were occupied in watching the mealman, and they did not see the figure of a girl approaching. Muroc, dumfounded, spoke first. "Elise the black fever!" he gasped, thoroughly awed. "She is better, she will live," said a voice behind Lajeunesse.
O mealman dear, you can do no better For I have a chateau at Malmaison. Black charcoalman, you shall not have her She shall not marry you, my Suzon A bag of meal and a sack of carbon! Non, non, non, non, non, non, non, non!
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