Swords were drawn again.
The officers and men clustered around Lestoype and Marteau.

The Eagle was lifted high, blades were upheaved threateningly again.

Dangers were forgotten.

Intoxicated with enthusiasm they gave free course to their emotions.
"_Vive l'Empereur_!" resounded through the hall, not whispered but shouted, not shouted but roared! In their mad frenzy of excitement they did not, any of them, notice that the door into the hall had been thrown open and that a young officer of the regiment stood there, his face pale with amazement, his mouth open, staring.

He could not take in the whole purport of the scene but he saw the Eagle, he heard the cries, the word "_Vive_" came to him out of the tumult, coupled with the name of Marteau and the Emperor.
"Gentlemen!" he finally shouted, raising his voice to its highest pitch and as the sound penetrated to the tumultuous mass the noise died away almost as suddenly as it had arisen.
Men faced about and stared toward the entrance.