"Thanks, general; a fine scar like that does not harm a chasseur's face." "That was not what I meant." "What then?" "It will give me an excuse to send you away." "Say, general, no jokes; it is not a final dismissal?" "No, a fortnight's furlough." "What for?" "To go and see Mother Falou." "Ah, yes, the poor old woman; that's so." "Have you not your back-pay to carry her?" "Ah! general, you have no idea of the quantity of brandy compresses that I had to put on this wound! It is like a mouth, it drinks and drinks, you have no idea how much." "In other words your pay is almost gone?" "Worse than my sword was when you were good enough to give me this one." "Then I will do for your pay what I did for your sword." "Will you give me more?" "Oh! the Prince de Condé will pay the piper!" "Gold! Ah, what a pity that the poor old mother cannot see it again; it would remind her of the times when there was plenty of gold!" "She will see enough to sew the new quartermaster's stripes on your coat, which the Prussians have already sewed on your face." "Quartermaster, general? Am I a quartermaster?" "That is the rank which they have put upon your leave of absence." "Faith, yes; there it is, every letter of it!" said Falou. "Get ready to start." "To-day?" "To-day." "On foot or on horseback?" "In a carriage." "In a carriage? Am I to go in a carriage?" "A post-chaise." "Like the king's dogs when they go to the hunt! And may I know why I am to have this honor?" "My secretary, Charles, who is going to Besançon, will take you with him, and will bring you back again." "General," said Falou, bringing his heels together and saluting, "it only remains for me to thank you." Pichegru acknowledged the salute with a wave of his hand and a nod. Falou turned upon his heel and went out. "Charles! Charles!" called Pichegru. A door opened, and Charles, who was in an adjoining room, hurried in. "Here I am, general," he said. "Do you know where Abatucci is?" "With us, general. He is doing the account that you asked for." "Will he have it finished before long?" "It is finished, general," said Abatucci, appearing with the paper in his hand. Charles was about to go away, but the general caught him by the wrist. "Wait," said he, "I wish to speak to you." Then he said to Abatucci, "How many flags?" "Five, general." "Cannons?" "Twenty-eight." "Prisoners?" "Three thousand." "How many of the enemy killed?" "Fully seven thousand." "How many did we lose?" "Scarcely twenty-five hundred."