He was captain of a company in the daytime, forgeron at night.
Valmond, no longer fantastic in dress, speech, or manner, was happy, busy, buoyed up and cast down by turn, troubled, exhilarated.

He could not understand these variations of health and mood.

He had not felt equably well since the night of Gabriel's burial in the miasmic air of the mountain.

At times he felt a wonderful lightness of head and heart, with entrancing hopes; again a heaviness and an aching, accompanied by a feeling of doom.

He fought the depression, and appeared before his men cheerful and alert always.