And now that age was
stealing upon him his torment seemed to increase, as if he were in
despair at finding himself unable to try the possibilities of the
unknown, before he ended a useless life devoid of happiness.
However, Benjamin moved away from the door, Ambroise gave his orders, and
Mathieu and Marianne appeared upon the verdant lawn in the sunlight. An
acclamation, merry laughter, affectionate clapping of hands greeted them.
The gay excited throng, the whole swarming family cried aloud: "Long live
the Father! Long live the Mother! Long life, long life to the Father and
the Mother!"
At ninety years of age Mathieu was still very upright and slim, closely
buttoned in a black frock-coat like a young bridegroom. Over his bare
head fell a snowy fleece, for after long wearing his hair cut short he
had now in a final impulse of coquetry allowed it to grow, so that it
seemed liked the _renouveau_ of an old but vigorous tree. Age might have
withered and worn and wrinkled his face, but he still retained the eyes
of his young days, large lustrous eyes, at once smiling and pensive,
which still bespoke a man of thought and action, one who was very simple,
very gay, and very good-hearted.
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