u good morning, madame."

And though the woman knew that the old soldier was mercilessly chaffing
her and her milksop son, the thing was done so politely and so
apparently seriously on the marshal's part, that she was fain to take no
for an answer.

On one occasion, it appears--for the marshal liked to tell these tales,
and he was not a bad mimic--he had just dismissed a lady similarly
afflicted with a deaf son, when another entered whose offspring suffered
from an impediment in his speech. "Madame," the marshal said, without
moving a muscle, "your son will realize the type of the soldier
immortalized by M. Scribe in 'Les Huguenots.' You know what Marcel
sings." And, striking a theatrical attitude, he trolled--

"'Un vieux soldat sait souffrir et se taire
Sans murmurer.'

With this additional advantage," he went on, "that your son will be a
young one. I can, however, promise you another comfort. A lady has just
left me whose son is as deaf as a post. I'll not only see that your son
is drafted into the same company, but I'll make it my special business
to have their beds placed side by side. The young fellow can go on
stammering as long as he likes, it won't offend his comrade's hearing."

"But my son is very short-sighted, as blind as a bat, your excellency;
he won't be able to distinguish the friend from the foe," expostulated a
third lady.

"Don't let that trouble you, madame," was the answer; "we'll put him in
the infantry: he has only got to blaze away, he is sure to hit some one
or something."

These were the scenes when the marshal was in an amiable mood; when he
was not, he would scarcely suffer the slightest remark; but, if the
remark was ventured upon, it had to be effectual, to be couched in
language as abrupt as his. "Soft-sawder" he hated above all things; and
even when he was wrong, he would not admit it to any one who whined or
spoke prettily. On the other hand, when the visitor or petitioner became
as violent as he was himself, he often reversed his decision. One day,
while waiting for the marshal, I met in the anteroom an individual who,
by his surly looks, was far from pleased. After striding up and down for
a while, he began to bang on the table, and to shout at the top of his
voice, calling the old soldier all kinds of names. Out came the marshal
in his shirt-sleeves--the moment the lady-visitors were gone he always
took off his coat. "Come back, monsieur," he said to the individual. In