was glad to see that he was returning to his story, for he suddenly said:
"You never have seen a ship, have you?"
"I never have," answered I, "excepting in the Panorama of Paris, and I would not trust much to the nautical science I derived from that."
"Then you do not know what the catheads are?"
"I have not the least idea," said I.
"They are a kind of beams projecting in front from the bows of the vessel, from which the anchor is thrown off. When a man is to be shot, he is usually placed there," he added in a low tone.
"Oh! I understand, so that he then falls into the water?"
He did not answer, but began to describe the small boats of a vessel. And then, and without any order in his ideas, he continued his tale, with that affected air of unconcern, which a long service in the army invariably gives, because you must show your inferiors your contempt of danger, your contempt of men, your contempt of life, your contempt of death, and even your contempt of yourself. And all this generally hides, under a rough envelope, very deep feelings. The roughness of a soldier is like a mask of iron over a noble face; like the stone dungeon that incloses a royal prisoner.
"These boats hold more than eight rowers,"
