Aux armes! les Americains viennent d'arriver!" At his own house he knocked and called in vain.

He shook the door violently; for he was thinking of the stores under the floor, of the grimy bottles, of the fragrant Bordeaux--ah, his throat, how it throbbed! But where was Madame Roussillon?
Where was Alice?
"Jean! Jean!" he cried, forgetting all precaution, "come here, you scamp, and let me in this minute!" A profoundly impressive silence gave him to understand that his home was deserted.
"Chiff! frightened and gone to stay with Madame Godere, I suppose--and I so thirsty! Bah! hum, hum, apres le vin la bataille, ziff!" He kicked in the door and groped his way to the liquors.

While he hastily swigged and smacked he heard the firing begin with a crackling, desultory volley.

He laughed jovially, there in the dark, between draughts and deep sighs of enjoyment.
"Et moi aussi," he murmured, like the vast murmur of the sea, "I want to be in that dance! Pardonnez, messieurs.

Moi, je veux danser, s'il vous plait." And when he had filled himself he plunged out and rushed away, wrought up to the extreme fighting pitch of temper.