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"Who-e debel you?" he at last said "you no speak-e, dam-me, I kill-e." And so saying the lighted tomahawk began flourishing about me in the dark. "Landlord, for God's sake, Peter Coffin!" shouted I. "Landlord! Watch! Coffin! Angels! save me!"
"You are wrong, Debel," said Bonaparte; "it will cost me two commissions, one for the corporal, and one for the general of division. Forward, march, gentlemen! We are going to the Tuileries."
"His division is already there." "All the more reason." Glancing about him, Bonaparte saw Moreau and Beurnonville, who were waiting for him, their horses held by orderlies. He saluted them with a wave of his hand, already that of a master rather than that of a comrade. Then, perceiving General Debel out of uniform, he went down the steps and approached him.
Seeing an artillery private near him, he said: "What are you doing among the epaulets?" The artilleryman began to laugh. "Don't you recognize me, general?" he asked. "Faith, it's Debel! Where did you get that horse and the uniform?" "From that artilleryman you see standing there in his shirt. It will cost you a corporal's commission."
I live in the Rue Cherche-Midi, No. 11." "Will nothing be done to me?" "Yes, you shall be made a corporal." "Good!" said the artilleryman; and he quickly handed over his uniform and horse to General Debel. In the meantime, Bonaparte heard talking above him. He raised his head and saw Joseph and Bernadotte at a window. "Once more, general," he said to Bernadotte, "will you come with me?"
"Don't be alarmed, general." Debel had noticed an artilleryman on horseback who was about his size. "Friend," said he, "I am General Debel. By order of General Bonaparte lend me your uniform and your horse, and I'll give you furlough for the day. Here's a louis to drink the health of the commander- in-chief. To-morrow, come to my house for your horse and uniform.
"No suh, we didn't hab no driver, ol' Marse dun his own drivin'. He was a mean ol' debel and whipped his slaves of'n and hard. He'd make 'em strip to the waist then he's lash 'em with his long blacksnake whip. Ol' Marse he'd whip womin same as men. I member seein' 'im whip my mammy wunce. Marse Beckwith used the big smoke hous' for de jail.
"Who-e debel you?" he at last said "you no speak-e, dam-me, I kill-e." And so saying the lighted tomahawk began flourishing about me in the dark. "Landlord, for God's sake, Peter Coffin!" shouted I. "Landlord! Watch! Coffin! Angels! save me!"
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