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I can't help it, sir; I will damn him, if he shoot me for it you'd been a Chef d'Escadron by now. There ain't the leastest doubt of it. Ask all the zigs what they think. Well, sir, now you know I'm a man what do as I say.
Which effectually chastised the Chef d'Escadron, who was one of those who had a ton of the roughest manners, and piqued himself on his powers of fence much more than on his habits of delicacy. "Has this Victor any history?" asked the English Duke. "He has written one with his sword; a fine one," said Cigarette curtly. "We are not given here to care much about any other."
"My name is Burke; and yours, Monsieur?" "Berghausen, chef d'escadron of the Imperial Guard. If ever you should come to Vienna " But I lost the words that followed, as, spurring my horse to a gallop, I set out towards the headquarters of the Emperor.
The Chef d'Escadron had been shot dead as they had first swept out to encounter the advance of the desert horsemen; one by one the officers had been cut down, singled out by the keen eyes of their enemies, and throwing themselves into the deadliest of the carnage with the impetuous self-devotion characteristic of their service.
That the fattest pullet of the poorest Bedouin was as sacred to him as the banquet of his own Chef d'Escadron, let him be ever so famished after the longest day's march, was an eccentricity, and an insult to the usages of the corps, for which not even his daring and his popularity could wholly procure him pardon.
"C'est Cigarette!" said the Chef d'Escadron, with a shrug of his shoulders, as of one who explained, by that sentence, a whole world of irreclaimable eccentricities. "A strange little Amazon!" said their guest. "Is she in love with this Victor, that I have offended her so much with his name?" The Major shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know that, monsieur," answered one.
"A fine fellow," continued the Chef d'Escadron to whom he had appealed. "He behaved magnificently the other day at Zaraila; he must be distinguished for it. He is just sent on a perilous errand, but though so quiet he is a croc-mitaine, and woe to the Arabs who slay him! Are you acquainted with him?" "Not in the least. But I wished to hear all I could of him.
Morrel has received a regiment, and Joliette is Chef d'Escadron of Spahis. Luckily for aspirants, and thanks to disease and slaughter, there is no lack of vacancies." "The name of Morrel I have seen before in the 'Moniteur, but Joliette who is he?" "A sort of protégé of Bugeaud, 'tis said.
"Well, he's got his step since; but I never teased him after." "And why so, Tronchon?" said I. "I'll tell thee, lad," whispered he, in a low, confidential tone, as if imparting a secret well worth the hearing. "They can find fellows every day fit for lieutenants and chefs d'escadron.
Fêtes, hunting-parties, excursions, balls and banquets were given for his entertainment, and all the families of the Loiret joined in lionizing the brilliant chef d'escadron, heroes being a rarity in France during those piping times of peace. Among these old and new friends the count met Madame Chiron de la Peyronie, relict of Admiral Chiron of the Grand Monarch's navy.
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