ose grade of sergeant
was merely marked by a gold cord on his cuff, and which had hitherto
escaped my notice, assumed the leadership, and recounted some stories
of his life; which, treating of a service so novel to me in all its
details, were sufficiently interesting, though the materials themselves
were slight and unimportant.

One feature struck me in particular through all he said, and gave a
character most distinctive to the service he belonged to, and totally
unlike what I had observed among the soldiers of the army. With _them_
the armies of all Europe were accounted the enemy,--the Austrian, the
Russian, the Italian, and the Prussian were the foes he had met and
conquered in so many fields of glory. The pride he felt in his triumphs
was a great but natural sentiment; involving, however, no hatred of his
enemy, nor any desire to disparage his courage or his skill. With the
sailor of the Empire, however, there was but one antagonist, and that
one he detested with his whole heart: England was a word which stirred
his passion from its very inmost recesses, and made his blood boil
with intense excitement. The gay insolence of the soldier, treating his
conquest as a thing of ease and certainty, had no resemblance to the
collected and impassioned hate of the sailor, who felt that _his_
victories were not such as proclaimed his superiority by evidence
incontestable. The victories on land contrasted, too, so strongly
with even what were claimed as such at sea, that the sailors could not
control their detestation of those who had robbed them of a share of
their country's praise, and made the hazardous career they followed one
of mere secondary interest in the eyes of France.

A more perfect representative of this mingled jealousy and hate could
not be found than Paul Dupont, the sous-officier in command of this
little party. He was a Breton, and carried the ruling trait of his
province into the most minute feature of his conduct. Bold, blunt,
courageous, open-hearted, and fearless, but passionate to the verge of
madness when thwarted, and unforgiving in his vengeance when insulted,
he only believed in Brittany, and for the rest of France he cared as
little as for Switzerland. His whole life had been spent at sea, until
about two years previous, when from boatswain he was promoted to be a
sergeant of the Marines of the Guard,--a step he regretted every day,
and was now actually petitioning to be restored to his old grade,