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We were at the Academy, where we had gone to hear an essay by D'Alembert. Franklin and Voltaire a very thin old gentleman of eighty-four, with piercing black eyes sat side by side on the platform. The audience demanded that the two great men should come forward and salute each other. They arose and advanced and shook hands. "'A la Française, the crowd demanded.
Dutton uncovered again, and bowed profoundly, at this announcement of the lad's name and rank; the boy himself, taking the salute in an off-hand and indifferent way, like one already wearied with vulgar adulation, while he gazed about him, with some curiosity, at the head-land and flag-staff.
I was getting pretty indifferent to blows; I couldn't feel them. The hand went up, the man straightened and held a fairly snappy salute. "Sir," he said. "Space'n first class Thomas." I didn't feel like laughing or cheering or anything else; I just took it as it came. "At ease, Thomas," I managed to say. "Why aren't you at your duty station?" I went spinning off somewhere after that oration.
Every feature in that marvellous scene delighted him both in itself, and for the sake of the innumerable associations and images which it conjured up in his active and well-stored mind. The salute of fifteen guns that greeted him, as he set his foot on the beach, reminded him that he was in a region where his countrymen could exist only on the condition of their being warriors and rulers.
Some fired at one moment, some at another, with the greatest possible irregularity, many of the bullets flying over the house, others striking the roof. "Let them expend their ammunition as fast as they like in that style," cried the lieutenant, laughing; "they will not do us much harm. It is not worth replying to such a salute."
As they encountered the Prince, a discharge of pistol-shots was fired by way of salute, which was the signal for a deafening shout from the assembled multitude. The crowd thronged about the Prince as he advanced, calling him their preserver, their father, their only hope.
In extremity, therefore, if you can not go forward at all, then have their Majesties, the King as well as Queen, notified, by means of some trusty person, that if we obtain the grant of the government on the spot, and have no difficulty with regard to investiture, we shall pay to both their Majesties, as a bonus, the sum of sixty thousand Polish florins, and afterward wait upon the great chancellor, vice chancellor, and lord high chancellor, salute these gentlemen from me, and promise each one of them ten thousand Polish florins.
"And on this you presume to establish an acquaintance?" "By no means, sir. The lady recognized me, and I was proud to return the polite salute with which she greeted me." "Doubtless." "Would you have me do otherwise, sir?" "I would have you avoid this family of Gonzales altogether."
"Let me send out for something cool to drink, Mr. Cressy. You must be horribly hot. It is warm in here, even with all the fans going. Hi, there, Tommy!" Philip summoned a freckled, red-haired youth from somewhere in the background. "Run over to Greene's and get a lemonade for this gentleman, will you?" "Right, Mr. Phil." The boy saluted an odd salute, Mr. Cressy noted.
"Begins to look like we're getting in, Lieutenant," said Sergeant Hicks, smiling behind his salute. Claude nodded and passed forward. "Well, we can't arrive any too soon for us, boys?" The Sergeant looked over his shoulder, and they grinned, their teeth flashing white in their red, perspiring faces.
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