They
questioned each other with their eyes, and more than one smile ran
from lip to lip.
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. In the hush that ensued, the lagging steps of the conscripts on
the creaking sand of the road produced a recurrent sound which added a
sort of vague emotion to the general excitement. This indefinable
feeling can be understood only by those who have felt their hearts
beat in the silence of the night from a painful expectation heightened
by some noise, the monotonous recurrence of which seems to distil
terror into their minds, drop by drop.
The thought of the commandant, as he returned to his men, was: "Can I
be mistaken?" He glanced, with a concentrated anger which flashed like
lightning from his eyes, at the stolid, immovable Chouan; a look of
savage irony which he fancied he detected in the man's eyes, warned
him not to relax in his precautions. Just then Captain Merle, having
obeyed Hulot's orders, returned to his side.
"We did well, captain," said the commandant, "to put the few men whose
patriotism we can count upon among those conscripts at the rear.
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