As Lestoype stopped he brought his hand to the front of his body.

There in the light of the candles, from the great chandelier above, the officers and soldiers saw the thing which they venerated next to God.

For a moment they stared, almost aghast at the gilded emblem in Marteau's hand.

Eyes sparkled in some faces, brimmed with tears in others, cheeks paled on one hand and flushed upon the other; breaths came quicker, a low murmur ran through the room--almost terrible in its meaning.
"The Eagle of the regiment, messieurs," said old Lestoype solemnly, breaking the silence.
"_Vive l'Empereur!_" suddenly exclaimed a veteran port-aigle, or standard bearer, in a low but tense voice, and the mighty battle-cry swept softly through the room from man to man, in low notes, in broken whispers like a great wavering sigh from a multitude of throbbing hearts.
"Is it the same ?" asked one as the sound died away.
"The very same," answered Lestoype.

"It was given into my hands years ago.