e guests came into the parlor, where the Renault family with M. Nibor
and the Colonel were already assembled. There were successively
presented to M. Fougas the mayor of the city, Doctor Martout, Master
Bonnivet the notary, M. Audret, and three members of the Paris
committee; the other three had been obliged to return before dinner. The
guests were not entirely at their ease; their sides, bruised by the
first movements of Fougas, left room for them to suppose that possibly
they were dining with a maniac. But curiosity was stronger than fear.
The Colonel soon reassured them by a most cordial reception. He excused
himself for acting the part of a man just returned from the other world.
He talked a great deal--a little too much, perhaps; but they were so
well pleased to listen to him, and his words borrowed such an importance
from the singularity of recent events, that he gained an unqualified
success. He was told that Dr. Martout had been one of the principal
agents of his resuscitation, in conjunction with another person whom
they promised soon to present to him. He thanked M. Martout warmly, and
asked how soon he could evince his gratitude to the other person.

"I hope," said Leon, "that you will see her this evening."

No one came later than the colonel of the 23d of the line, M. Rollon. He
made his way with no little difficulty through the crowds of people who
filled the Rue de la Faisanderie. He was a man of forty-five, with a
quick voice, and full figure. His hair was a little grizzled, but his
brown mustache, full, and twisted at the ends, looked as young as ever.
He said little, spoke to the point, knew a great deal, and did no
boasting--all in all, he was a fine specimen of a colonel. He came right
up to Fougas, and held out his hand like an old acquaintance.

"My dear comrade," said he, "I have taken great interest in your
resurrection, as much on my own account as on account of the regiment.
The 23d which I have the honor to command, yesterday venerated you as an
ancestor. From to-day, it will cherish you as a friend."--Not the
slightest allusion to the affair of the morning, in which M. Rollon had
undergone his pummelling with the rest.

Fougas answered becomingly, but with, a tinge of coldness:

"My dear comrade, I thank you for your kindly sentiments. It is singular
that Destiny places me in the presence of my successor on the very day
that I reopen my eyes to the light; for, after all, I am neither dead