“Not a go-dam,” said Duclosse, airing his one English oath. “The English hate the Orleans too.” Lajeunesse looked from one to the other, then burst into a laugh. “There’s two gills of rum for every man at twelve o’clock to-day, so says His Excellency; and two yellow buttons for the coat of every sergeant, and five for every captain. The English up there in Quebec can’t do better than that, can they? And will they? No. Does a man spend money on a hell’s foe, unless he means to give it work to do? Pish! Is His Excellency like to hang back because Monsieur De la Riviere says he’ll fetch the Government? Bah! The bully soldiers would come with us as they went with the Great Napoleon at Grenoble. Ah, that! His Excellency told me about that just now. Here stood the soldiers,”--he mapped out the ground with his sword, “here stood the Great Napoleon, all alone. He looks straight before him. What does he see? Nothing less than a hundred muskets pointing at him. What does he do? He walks up to the soldiers, opens his coat, and says, ‘Soldiers, comrades, is there one of you will kill your Emperor?’ Damned if there was one! They dropped their muskets, and took to kissing his hands. There, my dears, that was the Great Emperor’s way, our Emperor’s father’s little way.” “But suppose they fired at us ‘stead of at His Excellency?” asked the mealman. “Then, mealman, you’d settle your account for lightweights sooner than you want.” Duclosse twisted his mouth dubiously. He was not sure how far his enthusiasm would carry him. Muroc shook his shaggy head in mirth. “Well, ‘tis true we’re getting off to France,” said the lime-burner. “We can drill as we travel, and there’s plenty of us for a start.” “Morrow we go,” said Lajeunesse. “The proclamation’s to be out in an hour, and you’re all to be ready by ten o’clock in the morning. His Excellency is to make a speech to us to-night; then the General--ah, what a fine soldier, and eighty years old!--he’s to give orders, and make a speech also; and I’m to be colonel,”--he paused dramatically,--“and you three are for captains; and you’re to have five new yellow buttons to your coats, like these.” He drew out gold coins and jingled them. Every man got to his feet, and Muroc let the coffee-tin fall. “There’s to be a grand review in the village this afternoon. There’s breakfast for you, my dears!” Their exclamations were interrupted by Lajeunesse, who added: “And so my Madelinette is to go to Paris, after all, and Monsieur Parpon is to see that she starts right.” “Monsieur” Parpon was a new title for the dwarf. But the great comedy, so well played, had justified it. “Oh, His Excellency ‘ll keep his oath,” said the mealman. “I’d take Elise Malboir’s word about a man for a million francs, was he prince or ditcher; and she says he’s the greatest man in the world. She knows.” “That reminds me,” said Lajeunesse gloomily, “Elise has the black fever.”