The handsome, though dark complexions of the Creoles could be seen lit up with enthusiasm, in conversation with the dark-eyed Creole beauties of the city, while the light-haired and fair-faced sons of the Crescent City were seen mingling among the crowd of anxious relatives who thronged to bid them farewell.
Apart from the mass of volunteers--who had previously stacked their arms--Alfred Wentworth and his wife were bidding that agonizing farewell, which only those who have parted from loved one can feel.
His little bright-eyed daughter was clasped in his arms, and every minute he would stoop over his infant and kiss its tiny cheeks.

Marks of tears were on the eyelids of his wife, but she strove to hide them, and smiled at every remark made by her daughter.

They were alone from the eyes of a curious crowd.

Each person present had too much of his own acquaintances to bid farewell, to notice the speechless farewell which the soldier gave his wife.

With one arm clasped around her, and the other holding his daughter, Alfred Wentworth gazed long and earnestly at the features of his wife and children, as if to impress the features of those loved ones still firmer in his mind.
"Attention, battalion!" rang along the line in stentorian tones, and the voices of the company officers calling "fall in, boys, fall in!" were heard in the streets.