Potatoes and eggs and butter were forgotten, while market women and customers stood gaping, open mouthed. Never had such beautiful specimens of manhood been seen in Laragne. By the time they reached the Rue Haute all the village had turned out to have a look at them, and heads appeared at every cottage window. The village urchins followed the little squad, intoning the “Marseillaise” and giving vent to their excitement by performing miracles of acrobatic evolutions. Even Ma’ame Colombe, who was at the moment selecting a piece of meat for Sunday’s dinner, could not help but say to herself that she would not mind Amédé being in the army if he was going to look like that!
At that very moment one of the urchins paused in the midst of a magnificently sketched somersault in order to run down the street and back to the marketplace, shouting excitedly:
“Ma’ame Colombe! Ma’ame Colombe! the soldiers are at the épicerie.”
And so they were! Ma’ame Colombe, hastily straightened her cap and snatching up her market basket, ran to the corner of the Rue Haute just in time to see the soldiers with their officer and wagon come to a halt outside her front door. The worthy Hector with his son Amédé, and the old man who helped in the shop, were busy taking down the shutters and displaying the sacks of various kinds of haricots and lentils in tempting array all along the shop front. Ma’ame Colombe heard the magnificent officer give a quick order: “Halte!” and “Attention!” and the next moment she saw him enter the shop followed by his men, the wagon remaining drawn up a little further down the street. The urchins and gaffers crowded round the doorstep open-mouthed, and Ma’ame Colombe had some difficulty in pushing her way through into her own house.
The officer began by asking Hector Colombe how many soldiers of the Republic were still sleeping under his roof.
“Only the lieutenant and two men, M’sieu’ l’officier,” Hector replied. Whereupon the officer broke in curtly:
“Call me citizen captain. This is the army of the Revolution and its soldiers are not aristos meseems.”
Which remark boded no good to Ma’ame Colombe’s ears. Clean or dirty they all appeared to be the same type of brigands; overbearing, exacting and merciless! Ah that poor dear Amédé!
The officer then demanded to see the lieutenant and the two soldiers. Amédé offered to call them, but was stopped by a brief command from the captain:
“No, not you,” he said curtly, “I want you here, the citizeness can go.”
Ma’ame Colombe, obedient and vaguely frightened, put down her basket and went upstairs to fetch the lieutenant and the two men, who were still in bed. But although she had only been gone a couple of minutes, her sense of fear took on a more tangible form when she came down again, for she found all the drawers of the counter open, and much of their contents scattered about the floor. Some of the soldiers were busy ferreting about, behind and under the counter. The officer stood in the middle of the shop talking with Hector, who looked both choleric and sullen; in the doorway, the crowd of gaffers were being kept back by two of the soldiers, who were using the butts of their muskets when some venturesome urchin tried to cross the threshold. But what filled poor Ma’ame Colombe’s heart with dismay was the sight of Amédé sitting in the parlour behind the shop, with two other soldiers obviously on guard over him.
Her instinct prompted her to run first of all to her husband with a quick whispered: “Hector, what does this mean?”
But the magnificent officer brusquely thrust himself between her and Hector and said gruffly: “It means, citizeness, that not only treason, but also theft has been traced to this house, and that it is lucky for you that news of it reached the Committee of Sisteron in time, else,” he added grimly, “it had been worse for you and your family.”
“Treason and theft?” Ma’ame Colombe exclaimed in hot indignation. “You must take it from me, young man, citizen, captain, or whatever you may be, that I’ll allow no one to—”
“Hold your tongue, woman,” the officer broke in curtly; “you do yourself no good by these protests. Obedience is your wisest course.”
“Good or no good,” Ma’ame Colombe persisted heatedly, “I won’t have the word theft used in connection with this house, and if—”
“Make your wife hold her tongue, citizen,” the officer, now addressing Hector once more, broke in curtly, “or I shall have to send her to the poste for interfering with a soldier of the Republic in the execution of his duty.”
Poor Hector Colombe, whose choler was shrinking in inverse ratio to that of his wife, did his best to pacify the worthy dame.
“It is all a mistake, Angelique,” he said gently. “M’sieu’ le Capitaine—pardon! the citizen captain thinks that Amédé
