egan to think so too, as I looked at myself in the small triangle
of a looking-glass which decorated Tronchon's wall, under a picture of
Kellermann, his first captain. I fancied that the improvement was most
decided. I thought that, bating a little over-ferocity, a something
verging upon the cruel, I was about as perfect a type of the hussar
as need be. My jacket seemed to fit tighter--my pelisse hung more
jauntily--my shako sat more saucily on one side of my head--my sabre
banged more proudly against my boot--my very spurs jangled with a
pleasanter music--and all because a little hair bristled over my lip,
and curled in two spiral flourishes across my cheek! I longed to see the
effect of my changed appearance, as I walked down the 'Place Carriere,'
or sauntered into the cafe where my comrades used to assemble. What will
Mademoiselle Josephine say, thought I, as I ask for my _petit verre_,
caressing my moustache thus! Not a doubt of it, what a fan is to a
woman a beard is to a soldier!--a something to fill up the pauses in
conversation, by blandly smoothing with the finger, or fiercely curling
at the point.

'And so thou art going to ask for thy grade, Maurice?' broke in
Tronchon, after a long silence.

'Not at all. I am about to petition for employment upon active service.
I don't seek promotion till I have deserved it.'

'Better still, lad. I was eight years myself in the ranks before they
gave me the stripe on my arm. _Parbleu!_ the Germans had given me some
three or four with the sabre before that time.'

'Do you think they 'll refuse me, Tronchon?'

'Not if thou go the right way about it, lad. Thou mustn't fancy
it's like asking leave from the captain to spend the evening in a
_guinguette_, or to go to the play with thy sweetheart. No, no, boy.
It must be done _en regle_. Thou'lt have to wait on the general at his
quarters at four o'clock, when he "receives," as they call it. Thou'lt
be there, mayhap, an hour, ay, two or three belike, and after all,
perhaps, won't see him that day at all! I was a week trying to catch
Kellermann, and, at last, he only spoke to me going downstairs with his
staff--

'"Eh, Tronchon, another bullet in thy old carcass; want a furlough to
get strong again, eh?"

'"No, colonel; all sound this time. I want to be a sergeant--I'm twelve
years and four months corporal."

'"Slow work, too," said he, laughing; "ain't it, Charles?" and he
pinched one of his young officers by the cheek.