But why aren't you in uniform?
Oh! how ugly you are in citizen's clothes! Have you just come from Egypt?
Did you bring me the silver-mounted pistols and the beautiful curved sword?
No?
Then you are not nice, and I won't kiss you any more.

Oh, no, no! Don't be afraid! I love you just the same!" And the boy smothered the big brother with kisses while he showered questions upon him.

The Englishman, still seated in the carriage, looked smilingly through the window at the scene.
In the midst of these fraternal embraces came the voice of a woman; the voice of the mother.
"Where is he, my Roland, my darling son ?" asked Madame de Montrevel, in a voice fraught with such violent, joyous emotion that it was almost painful.

"Where is he?
Can it be true that he has returned; really true that he is not a prisoner, not dead?
Is he really living ?" The child, at her voice, slipped from his brother's arms like an eel, dropped upon his feet on the grass, and, as if moved by a spring, bounded toward his mother.
"This way, mother; this way!" said he, dragging his mother, half dressed as she was, toward Roland.

When he saw his mother Roland could no longer contain himself.