Derville was angry.

The Colonel, hearing him, now came out of the little low room, close
to the dairy, and stood on the threshold of his doorway with
indescribable military coolness. He had in his mouth a very
finely-colored pipe--a technical phrase to a smoker--a humble, short
clay pipe of the kind called "/brule-queule/." He lifted the peak of
a dreadfully greasy cloth cap, saw Derville, and came straight across
the midden to join his benefactor the sooner, calling out in friendly
tones to the boys:

"Silence in the ranks!"

The children at once kept a respectful silence, which showed the power
the old soldier had over them.

"Why did you not write to me?" he said to Derville. "Go along by the
cowhouse! There--the path is paved there," he exclaimed, seeing the
lawyer's hesitancy, for he did not wish to wet his feet in the manure
heap.

Jumping from one dry spot to another, Derville reached the door by
which the Colonel had come out. Chabert seemed but ill pleased at
having to receive him in the bed-room he occupied; and, in fact,
Derville found but one chair there. The Colonel's bed consisted of
some trusses of straw, over which his hostess had spread two or three
of those old fragments of carpet, picked up heaven knows where, which
milk-women use to cover the seats of their carts. The floor was simply
the trodden earth. The walls, sweating salt-petre, green with mould,
and full of cracks, were so excessively damp that on the side where