It sprang from his wit, and from
his knowledge of Napoleon and the Napoleonic history, a knowledge which
had sent Monsieur Garon into tears of joy in his own home, and afterwards
off to the Manor House and also to the Seigneury, full of praise of him.
Catching sight of the sergeant, the significance of the thing flashed to
his brain, and his course was mapped out on the instant. Sitting very
straight, Valmond rode steadily down towards the old soldier. The
sergeant had drawn notice as he came up the street, and people came to
their doors, and children followed the grey, dust-covered veteran, in his
last-century uniform. He came as far as the Louis Quinze, and then,
looking on up the road, he saw the white horse, the cocked hat, the white
waistcoat, and the long grey coat. He brought his stick down smartly on
the ground, drew himself up, squared his shoulders, and said: "Courage,
Eustache Lagroin. It is not forty Prussians, but one rogue! Crush him!
Down with the pretender!"
So, with a defiant light in his eye, he came on, the old uniform sagging
loosely on the shrunken body, which yet was soldier-like from head to
foot.
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