"Oh--Decle," he read aloud, holding a pair of eyeglasses in his hand--he seldom wore them on his nose. "Lionel," he went on, reading to himself, "too d----d aristocratic to have a Christian name like anybody else. Why is Lionel your Christian name?" he asked me; "will you tell me why you call yourself Lionel?"[34] "Because my parents christened me so, sir," I replied. "A fine reason!" he said. "But it doesn't matter. Don't you ever wear your clothes?" he added. "They are all new; they've never been worn!" "No, sir," I said. "I bought duplicates so as to save those that were served out to me." "Plenty of money to waste, eh? Regimentals not good enough for you? I suppose you would consider yourself degraded if you had to wear a regimental shirt? Linen's too coarse for a tender skin like yours, eh?" I thought it as well to make no reply. Lifting up my blouse, the Lieutenant then looked at my shirt, and told me to unbutton it. I was wearing under my flannel shirt an under-vest made of wool and spun silk. "Ah! just what I thought," again remarked the Lieutenant. "The thing must wear flannel and silk like a _Cocotte_ (a fast woman), and then calls itself a trooper. _I_ don't wear any undervests, and yet I'm an officer! Well," he added, as he passed on to the next bed, "you've already found out that silk vests won't prevent you from going to the _Salle de Police_. You've got nothing missing to-day, but I'll soon catch you napping. You won't pass many inspections without having to send you to the _Boite_. Silk vests indeed!" he kept on muttering. He then began to examine Titi's bed. After looking through his outfit he lifted up the mattress, and found underneath it a dirty pair of drawers and a newspaper. "Just as I expected," he remarked. "What's that?" he asked, showing the newspaper to Titi. "Oh, it's an old newspaper, sir," blandly replied Titi, "that I put aside. I bought some things in the town and they were wrapped up in it." The Lieutenant looked at the date of the paper; it was the previous day's number of a Radical journal. "So, we read the paper here; the vilest rag, too, that was ever printed. Well, you will see what it will cost you, you dirty _Communard_. To begin with, you'll have eight days' _Salle de Police_, and I shall specially report you." So saying, the Lieutenant, holding the paper by the tips of his fingers, at arm's length, as if it had been something likely to contaminate him, handed it over to the Sergeant, de Lanoy, ordering him to go and throw that "vermin" on the dung-heap. "De Lanoy," he added, "on your way stop at the Sergeant-major's office and tell him to put you down for two days' _Salle de Police_ for the disgusting state in which your _peloton_ is kept." As the Lieutenant was looking over the last trooper's outfit our Captain came into the room. The Lieutenant went and spoke to him, and they both returned towards Titi's bed.