She was talking in this strain, or reflecting how she should lay the matter before her father, while the carriage which she and Aunt Medea occupied rolled over the highway and through the village of Sairmeuse. There were lights in every house, the wine-shops seemed full of tipplers, and groups of people could be seen in every direction. All this animation was no doubt most unusual, but what did it matter to Mademoiselle de Courtornieu! It was not until they were a mile or so from Sairmeuse that she was startled from her reverie. “Listen, Aunt Medea,” she suddenly exclaimed. “What is that noise?” The poor dependent listened as she was bid, and both occupants of the carriage could distinguish a confused babel of shouts and singing, which grew nearer and more distinct as the vehicle rolled onward. “Let us find out the meaning of all this hubbub,” said Blanche. And lowering one of the carriage windows, she asked the coachman if he knew what the disturbance was about. “I can see a great crowd of peasants on the hill,” he replied; “they have torches and--” “Blessed Jesus!” interrupted Aunt Medea in alarm. “It must be a wedding,” added the coachman, whipping up his horses. It was not a wedding, however, but Lacheneur’s little band, which had now swollen to five hundred men. The Bonapartist ringleader should have been at the Croix d’Arcy two hours earlier. But he had shared the fate of most popular chieftains. He had given an impetus to the movement, and now it was beyond his control. The Baron d’Escorval had made him lose twenty minutes at La Reche, and he was delayed four times as long in Sairmeuse. When he reached that village, a little behind time, he found the peasants scattered through the wine-shops, drinking to the success of the enterprise; and it proved a long and difficult talk to wrest them from their merry-making. To crown everything, when the insurgents were finally induced to resume their line of march, they could not possibly be persuaded to extinguish the torches they had lighted. Prayers and threats were alike unavailing. They declared that they wished to see their way, and their leader had to submit to this foolish fancy. Poor deluded beings! They had not the slightest conception of the difficulties and the perils of the enterprise they had undertaken. They had set out to capture a fortified town, defended by a numerous garrison, just as if they had been bound on a pleasure-jaunt. Gay, thoughtless, and animated with childlike confidence, they marched along, arm in arm, singing some patriotic refrain. Lacheneur, who was on horseback in the center of the band, suffered the most intolerable anguish. Would not this delay ruin everything? What would the others, who were waiting at Croix d’Arcy, think of him! What were they doing at this very moment? Maurice, Chanlouineau, Jean, Marie-Anne, and some twenty old soldiers of the Empire who accompanied the party, understood and shared Lacheneur’s despair.