ing his cap triumphantly, and shouting, "Vive l'Empereur! I am going to fight the Russians! Hammer and tongs, good-bye!"
Then Henri came. He was calm, but a few shades paler than before. He showed his number—eleven. No one spoke; but a moment after Clémence touched his arm and whispered hurriedly, "Come out into the air. Our mother is growing faint."
"Let us go home," said Madame de Talmont, sighing heavily. The crowd was increasing every moment, and the din and tumult were deafening. With some impatience Henri pushed aside those who stood in his path, and there was a sharp ring in his voice as he said, "Make way, make way, good people!"
"Oh yes; make way for the new conscript. How well M. de Talmont will look in the awkward squad!" cried some one.
Féron had crossed the street to the little inn opposite the Mairie, and was about to drink the Emperor's health in a cup of good red wine, a practice much in favour with the conscripts, but before tasting it he pushed through the throng, and offered the brimming goblet to Henri. "Drink, M. de Talmont," he said. "We are all comrades now, and the sooner we learn good fellowship the better."
Henri pushed the cup aside without a word; but Clémence spoke gently to the village lad. "It is not that my brother would not drink with you, Mathieu," she said; "but he is troubled just now, and so are we—like your mother and your sisters."
No other word was spoken until the De Talmonts reached their home, and even then very few. Madame de Talmont and Clémence arranged everything, and Henri seemed quite passive in their hands. According to their plan, he was to leave the cottage after nightfall, and travelling on foot by unfrequented ways, to try to reach the neighbourhood of their old home
