The reader will now judge what sort of men were captain Paulet and his lieutenant. Scarcely had this latter a breath left in his body, and yet in fight, as everywhere else, he was the leader. Sometimes he was lost in dull thought, whence he roughly aroused himself, his head giving the impetus to his system, and he evinced a turbulence which was restrained by no bounds. There was no extravagance, no wild sally of which he was not capable; and in this reckless state of excitation, all was dared by him. He would have scaled heaven itself. I cannot tell all the pranks he played at the first banquet to which Dufailli had presented me. Sometimes he proposed one scheme, sometimes another; at length he bethought him of the theatre. "What do they play to night?"—"'Misanthropy and Repentance.'"[1] "I prefer the 'Two Brothers.' Comrades! which of you is in a snivelling mood? The captain weeps every year at his festival, we fellows know nothing of such joys. They are confined to the fathers of families? Do you ever go to the play, captain? You should go; for there will be all the world there. All the fashionables, shrimp girls in silken gowns; the nobility of the land. Oh God! heaven itself is struck to see sows in ruffles. Never mind; these ladies must have their play, though it would be as well if they understood French. Oh, do so and see them. I remember some ladies at the last ball, who being asked to dance answered 'I'm axed already.'"—"Come, come, will you never hold your gabble?" said Paulet to his lieutenant, whom none of the men had interrupted. "Captain," he replied, "I have made a motion, and no one has answered me; nobody wants to snivel. Well, good by; I will go and blubber alone."
Fleuriot immediately went out, and the captain then commenced his eulogy. "He has," said he, "a burning brain, but for courage he is not equalled by
- ↑ The 'Stranger' of the English Stage.—Translator.
