Looking down, they had a
perfect view of the encampment. The tents had come from lumber-camps,
from river-driving gangs, and from private stores; there was some regular
uniform, flags were flying everywhere, many fires were burning, the voice
of Lagroin in command came up the valley loudly, and Valmond watched the
drill and a march past. The fires lit up the sides of the valley and
glorified the mountains beyond. In this inspiring air it was impossible
to feel an accent of disaster or to hear the stealthy footfall of ruin.
The three journeyed down into the valley, then up onto the plateau, where
they were challenged, allowed to pass, and came to where Valmond sat upon
his horse. At sight of them, with a suspicion of the truth, he ordered
Lagroin to march the men down the long plateau. They made a good figure
filing past the three visitors, as the young Seigneur admitted.
Valmond got from his horse, and waited for them. He looked weary, and
there were dark circles round his eyes, as though he had had an illness;
but he stood erect and quiet. His uniform was that of a general of the
Empire. It was rather dingy, yet it was of rich material, and he wore
the ribbon of the Legion of Honour on his breast. His paleness was not
of fear, for when his eyes met Monsieur De la Riviere's, there was in
them waiting, inquiry--nothing more. He greeted them all politely, and
Medallion warmly, shaking his hand twice; for he knew well that the gaunt
auctioneer had only kindness in his heart; and they had exchanged
humorous stories more than once--a friendly bond.
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