Then he rode down in front of Lajeunesse's men, the others
sprang from the drays and fell into place, and soon the little army was
marching, four deep, through the village.
This was the official beginning of Valmond's fanciful quest for empire.
The people had a phrase, and they had a man; and they saw no further than
the hour.
As they filed past the house of Elise Malboir, the girl stood in the glow
of a bonfire, beside the oven where Valmond had first seen her. All
around her was the wide awe of night, enriched by the sweet perfume of a
coming harvest. He doffed his hat to her, then to the Tricolor, which
Lagroin had fastened on a tall staff before the house. Elise did not
stir, did not courtesy or bow, but stood silent--entranced. She was in a
dream. This man, riding at the head of the simple villagers, was part of
her vision; and, at the moment, she did not rouse from the ecstasy of
reverie where her new-born love had led her.
For Valmond the scene had a moving power. He heard again her voice crying
in the smithy: "He is dying! Oh, my love! my love!"
He was now in the heart of a fantastical adventure. Filled with its
spirit, he would carry it bravely to the end, enjoying every step in it,
comedy or tragedy.
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