He was a
man of impressions, and he lived in the light of them continuously.
Wisdom might have been expected of Parpon, but he had been won by Valmond
from the start; and now, in the great hour, he was deep in another
theme--the restoration of his mother to himself, and to herself.
At seven o'clock in the evening, Valmond and Lagroin were in the streets,
after they had marched their men back to camp. A crowd had gathered near
the church, for His Excellency was on his way to visit the Cure.
As he passed, they cheered him. He stopped to speak to them. Before he
had ended, some one came crying wildly that the soldiers, the red-coats
were come. The sound of a drum rolled up the street, and presently, round
a corner, came the well-ordered troops of the Government.
Instantly Lagroin wheeled to summon any stray men of his little army, but
Valmond laid a hand on his arm, stopping him. It would have been the same
in any case, for the people had scattered like sheep, and stood apart.
They were close by the church steps. Valmond mechanically saw the
mealman, open-mouthed and dazed, start forward from the crowd; but,
hesitating, he drew back again almost instantly, and was swallowed up in
the safety of distance.
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