"_Sacré bleu!_ The Legion--why, you don't know what it is. Well, I will tell you--hard work--hard knocks--hard discipline, and no thanks. And how does it end? Your throat cut by some thieving Arab if you have luck; if not, wounded, and then his women make sausage meat of you. In Tonquin the same sort of thing--only worse, with fever and sunstroke into the bargain. A bad business! yes, a bad business!" Then his voice took quite a paternal tone, and he continued: "You look like a gentleman--you are one, I'm sure. Mind you, I don't mean to say there are not others over there--there are many--poor fellows! Your family, too!--think of them--such a sudden decision. _Sapristi!_ and all for some trifling _bêtise, sans doute_. A petticoat, I'll swear--don't deny it--I have been young also--a faithless sweetheart--Pish! There are a thousand others who would be delighted to console you. No! No! A good dinner, the _Moulin Rouge_, and to-morrow you will be cured, _sacré bleu!_" He laughed, and added: "Try that; and if to-morrow you still feel the cravings for a military career, well, come and see me." Disappointed and somewhat resentful, for at the time I did not appreciate the kindly intention which underlay the advice he had given me, and imagined that I had been treated with undue contempt and familiarity, I replied: "To-morrow I shall return, sir!" He laughed again good-naturedly, and said: "Well, well, we shall see;" at which I bowed and left the room. The outer office was silent and deserted, for it was the luncheon hour. I was annoyed at this, having counted on obtaining more information from the other men who had come to join. However, recognising the inutility of waiting there, I proceeded to my usual restaurant in a very disappointed state of mind, though in no way turned from my determination. At an early hour the next morning I returned to the Rue St Dominique. The major, my friend of the day before, received me with many deprecatory remarks concerning my persistence; but seeing that they were evidently lost on me, he carefully perused my passport, which I had been particular to bring with me, and I was passed on to the doctor for examination. "_Bon pour le service_," ran the verdict given, and I was then signed on for a period of five years. After much waiting a _feuille de route_, a railway requisition for Marseilles, and the sum of three francs for expenses, were given me. The sergeant-major who handed them to me was kind enough to mention that should I fail to put in an appearance at my destination within the next forty-eight hours, I would be considered a deserter, and treated as such. I left Paris that evening from the "Gare de Lyons," and arrived at Marseilles about twenty-four hours afterwards. At this stage of my story it is right to give a short historical description of the corps in which I had enlisted, and concerning which so many errors have been written, and so many delusions exist.