ng man. On the contrary, the buttons, the brasses, the braids, the
tricolored cockade; in short, everything was just as it was before the
restoration.

The eyes of the soldiers gleamed as they immediately recognized the
difference. They looked upon him with a certain envy, because he so
boldly sported that of which they were deprived. At first they did not
recognize the man who had the hardihood thus to display the insignia of
Napoleon in the kingdom of Louis. It was not until he had advanced
further in the room and stood in the full light of the chandelier and
Major Lestoype turned toward him that one of the veterans recognized
him.

"By the living God," cried a deep voice, "Marteau!"

Instantly the name was caught up.

"Marteau! Marteau! Marteau!" came from all parts of the room.

"Gentlemen, comrades," said Lestoype, raising his hand, "I beseech you,
silence. Walls have ears. Every man here is tried and true. We are
trusting our lives and honor to one another, but what may be outside I
know not. We must do nothing to attract any attention. Therefore,
restrain yourselves, I beg. Captain Marteau, for it is indeed he,
gentlemen, has brought back to the regiment----"

He paused a moment, with an instinctive feeling for the dramatic.
Perhaps the little scene had been prearranged. Marteau had carried his
hand behind his back. As Lestoype stopped he brought his hand to the
front of his body. There in the light of the candles, from the great
chandelier above, the officers and soldiers saw the thing which they
venerated next to God. For a moment they stared, almost aghast at the
gilded emblem in Marteau's hand. Eyes sparkled in some faces, brimmed
with tears in others, cheeks paled on one hand and flushed upon the
other; breaths came quicker, a low murmur ran through the room--almost
terrible in its meaning.

"The Eagle of the regiment, messieurs," said old Lestoype solemnly,
breaking the silence.

"_Vive l'Empereur!_" suddenly exclaimed a veteran port-aigle, or
standard bearer, in a low but tense voice, and the mighty battle-cry
swept softly through the room from man to man, in low notes, in broken
whispers like a great wavering sigh from a multitude of throbbing
hearts.

"Is it the same?" asked one as the sound died away.

"The very same," answered Lestoype. "It was given into my hands years
ago. I had someone write down the Emperor's words then. I committed
them to memory. I can hear him s