“And why?” replied he. “See what a capital wing that is,--a little bare, to be sure; and there's the back of a pigeon. _Ma foi!_ you have no reason to complain. I say, is it true you are named among the _compagnie d'élite_?” I nodded, and ate on. “_Diable!_ there never was such fortune. What a glorious exchange for this confounded swamp, with its everlasting drill from morning to night,--shivering under arms for four hours, and shaking with the ague the rest of the day after,--marching, mid-leg in water, half frozen, and trying quick movements, when the very blood is in icicles! And then you 'll be enjoying Paris,--delightful Paris!--dining at the 'Rocher,' supping at the 'Cadran,' lounging into the _salons_, at the very time we shall be hiding ourselves amidst the straw of our bivouacs. I go mad to think of it. And, what's worse than all, there you sit, as little elated as if the whole thing were only the most natural in the world. I believe, on my word, you 'd not condescend to be surprised if you were gazetted Maréchal de France in to-morrow's gazette.” “When I can bear, without testifying too much astonishment, to see my supper eaten by the man who does nothing but rate me into the bargain, perhaps I may plume myself on some equanimity of temper.” “Confound your equanimity! It's very easy to be satisfied when one has everything his own way.” “And so, Tascher, you deem me such a fortunate fellow?” “That I do,” replied he, quickly. “You have had more good luck, and made less of it, than any one I ever knew. What a career you had before you when we met first! There was that pretty girl at the Tuileries quite ready to fall in love with you; I know it, because she rather took an air of coldness with me. Well, you let her be carried off by an old general, with a white head and a queue,--unquestionably a bit of pique on her part. Then, somehow or other, you contrived to pink the best swordsman of the army, little François there; and I never heard that the circumstance gained you a single conquest.” “Quite true, my friend,” said I, laughing; “I confess it all. And, what is far worse, I acknowledge that until this moment I did not even know the advantages I was wilfully wasting.” “And even now,” continued he, not minding my interruption,--“even now, you are about to return to Paris as one of the _élite_. Well, I 'll wager twenty Naps that the only civil speeches you 'll hear will be from some musty old senators at the Luxembourg. Oh dear! if my amiable aunt, the Empress, would only induce my most benevolent uncle, the Emperor, to put me on that same list, depend upon it you 'd hear of Lieutenant Tascher in the 'Faubourg St. Honoré.'” “But you seem to forget,” said I, half piqued at last by the impertinence of his tone, “that I have neither friends nor acquaintances; that, although a Frenchman by service, I am not so by birth.”