It appeared to the postillion that the room was full; there were ladies there too--young, beautiful, and modest--such as he was in the habit of seeing through the windows of the carriages which he drove; the old Marquis was there too now; the butler had just wheeled in his chair, and Cathelineau perceived that he was expected to join the group at once.

A vista was opened for him up to the old man's chair; his eyes swam, and he hardly recollected the faces of the different people round him.

He wished that he had waited at the gate, and sent in for M.Henri; he could have talked to him alone.

Why had he ridden up so boldly to the chateau gate?
He had never trembled, for a moment, during the hot work at St.Florent, but now he felt that circumstances could almost make him a coward.
On a sudden he remembered that his hat was still on his head, and he snatched his hand out of Henri's to remove it, and then, when it was off, he wanted to go back to the hall to put it down.
Henri saw his confusion, and, taking it from him, put it on a chair, and then they all shook hands with him.

He first found his hand in that of the Marquis, and heard the old man bless him, and then the Priest blessed him, and then he felt the soft, sweet hands of those bright angels within his own horny palm; he heard them speaking to him, though he knew not what they said; and then he could restrain himself no longer, for tears forced themselves into his eyes, and, in the midst of them all, he cried like a child.
There was infection in his tears, for Agatha and Marie, when they saw them, cried too, and the eyes of some of the men also were not dry; they all knew what the feelings of the man were, and they fully sympathised with him.