And then, without his knowing why, a sadness filled his heart.
He slackened his steps; thoughts of the calm, peaceful life he was losing, perhaps for ever, floated through his mind; he saw his little room, so warm in winter and so gay in spring, when he opened his window to the breezes from the woods; he heard the never-changing tick of the village clock; and he thought of Louise--his good little Louise--spinning in silence, her eyes cast down, or, mayhap, singing in her pure, clear voice at evening. Everything in his home arose before his eyes: the tools of his trade, his long, glittering chisels, the hatchet with the crooked handle, the porringers of glazed earthenware, the antique figure of Saint Michael nailed to the wall, the old curtained bed in the alcove, the lamp with the copper beak--all were before him, and the tears forced their way to his eyes.
But it was to Louise--his dear child, his Louise--that his thoughts turned oftenest. How she would weep and implore him not to expose himself to the dangers of war! How she would hang upon his neck and beg him not to leave her! He saw her large, affrighted eyes; he felt her arms around him. He would fain deceive her, but deceit was no part of Jean-Claude's character; his words only deepened her grief.
He tried to shake off his gloom, and, passing by the farm of Bois-de-Chênes, he entered to tell Catherine that all went well, and that the mountaineers only awaited the signal.
Fifteen minutes later, Master Jean-Claude stood before his own door.
Before opening it, he glanced through the window to see what Louise might be doing. She was standing in the alcove, and seemed busily arranging and rearranging some garments that lay upon the bed. Her face beamed with happiness, her eyes sparkled, and she was talking to herself aloud. Hullin listened, but the rattling of a passing wagon prevented his hearing her words.
He pushed open the door and entered, saying:
She bounded like a fawn to him and threw her arms around his neck, exclaiming:
"It is you, Father Jean-Claude! How I have been waiting for you! How long you were gone! But you are home again, at last."
"My child--many things"--said the good man, putting away his staff behind the door--"many things kept--"