tout and
a pair of trousers _a la Cosaque_! Go to Babin, or Morean, if you want a
carnival dress; but it shall never be said that a man of as good figure
as yours left our establishment caricatured."

"Thunder and guns!" retorted Fougas. "You're a head taller than I am,
Mister Giant, but I'm a colonel of the Grand Empire, and it won't do for
drum-majors to give orders to colonels!"

Of course, the devil of a fellow had the last word. His measure was
taken, a book of costumes consulted, and a promise made that in
twenty-four hours he should be dressed in the height of the fashion of
1813. Cloths were presented for his selection, among them some English
fabrics. These he threw aside with disgust.

"The blue cloth of France," cried he, "and made in France! And cut it in
such a style that any one seeing me in Pekin would say, 'That's a
soldier!'"

The officers of our day have precisely the opposite fancy. They make an
effort to resemble all other "gentlemen"[7] when they assume the
civilian's dress.

Fougas ordered, in the _Rue Richelieu_, a black satin scarf, which hid
his shirt, and reached up to his ears. Then he went toward the _Palais
Royal_, entered a celebrated restaurant, and ordered his dinner. For
breakfast he had only taken a bite at a pastry-cook's in the
_Boulevard_, so his appetite, which had been sharpened by the excursion,
did wonders. He ate and drank as he did at Fontainebleau. But the bill
seemed to him hard to digest: it was for a hundred and ten francs and a
few centimes. "The devil!" said he; "living has become dear in Paris!"
Brandy entered into the sum total for an item of nine francs. They had
given him a bottle, and a glass about the size of a thimble; this
gimcrack had amused Fougas, and he diverted himself by filling and
emptying it a dozen times. But on leaving the table he was not drunk; an
amiable gayety inspired him, but nothing more. It occurred to him to get
back some of his money by buying some lottery tickets at Number 113. But
a bottle-seller located in that building apprised him that France had
not gambled for thirty years. He pushed on to the _Theatre Francais_, to
see if the Emperor's actors might not be giving some fine tragedy, but
the poster disgusted him. Modern comedies played by new actors! Neither
Talma, nor Fleury, nor Thenard, nor the Baptistes, nor Mlle. Mars, nor
Mlle. Raucourt! He then went to the opera, where Charles VI. was being
given. The music astounded him at o