ly embarrassed all at once, but became
positively annoyed when I saw our Prax enter the cafe in a sort of
mediaeval costume very much like what Faust wears in the third act. I
have no doubt it was meant for a purely operatic Faust. A light mantle
floated from his shoulders. He strode theatrically up to our table and
addressing me as "Young Ulysses" proposed I should go outside on the
fields of asphalt and help him gather a few marguerites to decorate a
truly infernal supper which was being organized across the road at the
Maison Doree--upstairs. With expostulatory shakes of the head and
indignant glances I called his attention to the fact that I was not
alone. He stepped back a pace as if astonished by the discovery, took
off his plumed velvet toque with a low obeisance so that the feathers
swept the floor, and swaggered off the stage with his left hand resting
on the hilt of the property dagger at his belt.

Meantime the well-connected but rustic Mills had been busy lighting his
briar and the distinguished Captain sat smiling to himself. I was
horribly vexed and apologized for that intrusion, saying that the fellow
was a future great sculptor and perfectly harmless; but he had been
swallowing lots of night air which had got into his head apparently.

Mills peered at me with his friendly but awfully searching blue eyes
through the cloud of smoke he had wreathed about his big head. The slim,
dark Captain's smile took on an amiable expression. Might he know why I
was addressed as "Young Ulysses" by my friend? and immediately he added
the remark with urbane playfulness that Ulysses was an astute person.
Mills did not give me time for a reply. He struck in: "That old Greek
was famed as a wanderer--the first historical seaman." He waved his pipe
vaguely at me.

"Ah! _Vraiment_!" The polite Captain seemed incredulous and as if
weary. "Are you a seaman? In what sense, pray?" We were talking French
and he used the term _homme de mer_.

Again Mills interfered quietly. "In the same sense in which you are a
military man." (_Homme de guerre_.)

It was then that I heard Captain Blunt produce one of his striking
declarations. He had two of them, and this was the first.

"I live by my sword."

It was said in an extraordinary dandified manner which in conjunction
with the matter made me forget my tongue in my head. I could only stare
at him. He added more naturally: "2nd Reg. Castille, Cavalry." Then
with