hout knowing why, from a confused emotion,
from pride and a vague and happy feeling of tenderness.

Then the mayor placed in one hand a silk purse in which gold tingled
--five hundred francs in gold!--and in his other hand a savings bank
book. And he said in a solemn tone:

"Homage, glory and riches to virtue."

Commandant Desbarres shouted "Bravo!" the grenadiers vociferated, and
the crowd applauded.

Mme. Husson wiped her eyes, in her turn. Then they all sat down at the
table where the banquet was served.

The repast was magnificent and seemed interminable. One course followed
another; yellow cider and red wine in fraternal contact blended in the
stomach of the guests. The rattle of plates, the sound of voices, and
of music softly played, made an incessant deep hum, and was dispersed
abroad in the clear sky where the swallows were flying. Mme. Husson
occasionally readjusted her black wig, which would slip over on one
side, and chatted with Abbe Malon. The mayor, who was excited, talked
politics with Commandant Desbarres, and Isidore ate, drank, as if he
had never eaten or drunk before. He helped himself repeatedly to all
the dishes, becoming aware for the first time of the pleasure of having
one's belly full of good things which tickle the palate in the first
place. He had let out a reef in his belt and, without speaking, and
although he was a little uneasy at a wine stain on his white waistcoat,
he ceased eating in order to take up his glass and hold it to his mouth
as long as possible, to enjoy the taste slowly.

It was time for the toasts. They were many and loudly applauded. Evening
was approaching and they had been at the table since noon. Fine,
milky vapors were already floating in the air in the valley, the light
night-robe of streams and meadows; the sun neared the horizon; the cows
were lowing in the distance amid the mists of the pasture. The feast was
over. They returned to Gisors. The procession, now disbanded, walked in
detachments. Mme. Husson had taken Isidore's arm and was giving him a
quantity of urgent, excellent advice.

They stopped at the door of the fruit store, and the "Rosier" was left
at his mother's house. She had not come home yet. Having been invited by
her family to celebrate her son's triumph, she had taken luncheon with
her sister after having followed the procession as far as the banqueting
tent.

So Isidore remained alone in the store, which was growing dark. He sat
down on a