Towards four o'clock the following day, the officers of the old army who were at Issoudun or its environs, were sauntering about the place du Marche, in front of an eating-house kept by a man named Lacroix, and waiting the arrival of Colonel Philippe Bridau.

The banquet in honor of the coronation was to take place with military punctuality at five o'clock.

Various groups of persons were talking of Max's discomfiture, and his dismissal from old Rouget's house; for not only were the officers to dine at Lacroix's, but the common soldiers had determined on a meeting at a neighboring wine-shop.

Among the officers, Potel and Renard were the only ones who attempted to defend Max.
"Is it any of our business what takes place among the old man's heirs ?" said Renard.
"Max is weak with women," remarked the cynical Potel.
"There'll be sabres unsheathed before long," said an old sub-lieutenant, who cultivated a kitchen-garden in the upper Baltan.

"If Monsieur Maxence Gilet committed the folly of going to live under old Rouget's roof, he would be a coward if he allowed himself to be turned off like a valet without asking why." "Of course," said Mignonnet dryly.