This fact was less surprising to me
than it appeared to Monsieur Jerome; but,
without commenting on bis presumed
incapacity to acquire a language, of which, in
all likelihood, he had never heard more than
half a dozen words, I asked him if his
occupation as a voiturier often took him to
Boulogne.

Yes; it happened now and then. Twice
or three times, perhaps, within the year.
But he had once stayed there some time. Ah!
an event happened there which he should
never forget! Monsieur probably knew the
large barrack in the lower town, not far from
the port ? Well; once he was laid up there,
in the military hospital, with wounds, for
three months.

'' You have seen service, then? " I
remarked.

"Dam'! Yes. In Algeria, with General
Bugeaud. Hi! La Maligne! Keep straight
on! But those wounds were not inflicted
by the Arabs. They were obtained in a
different sort of warfare— yes, 'faith!"

If Monsieur Jerome desired to excite our
curiosity, he succeeded. He saw that he had
done so; and, taking for granted that we
wished to know all about it, he began his
story, which I shall repeat without the
occasional interruptions that took place while he
told it.

"In the first place," he said, "I possess one
great fault. I have too much courage. It
very often gets me into trouble. When the
blood mounts to my eyes, I hesitate not to
attack an army! A thousand enemies are
to me—nothing! not the shake of that whip.
Well, then. Six years ago I was quartered at
Boulogne, in the Thirty-seventh of the Line—
a regiment well enough known. I was, without
flattering myself, the best swordsman in
the garrison. Had I chosen to teach fencing,
my pupils would have been without number.
On that account, and for my moral character,
I was respected. The colonel, when he
rebuked the men, would say, 'Take example
by Jerome Premier' (there was another
Jerome in the regiment, a person of no
account), ' he is a pattern! Consequently, I
was a mark for envy. More than one would
have liked a quarrel with me, had he dared
to encourage the idea. Well! What a man
has not the hardihood to imagine of his own
accord, is, you see, sometimes forced upon
him by circumstances— above all, when one
has to do with the fair sex. If I was respected
and feared by my comrades, those were not
alone the sources of my pride. I had other
successes: madame will permit me the
expression! There was a charming young girl,
her name was Georgette— such a figure!
such a face! How she danced! with me, too,
more than with any one else— no matter for
the reason. More cause for envy. Monsieur
has heard of the ducasses— the country fêtes—
near Boulogne? It was at one of these, on
the festival of the Assumption, out of which
the affair I am going to speak of arose.
Georgette and I had already danced together
three times, and she had promised me her
hand again. In the mean while, reposing
from exertion, I offered her a bottle of Bière
de Mars in an alcove. Tiiat was a simple
politeness. Having poured out to her
honour, I naturally proposed a toast, and
while she sipped from her glass I smoked a
cigar. In fine, we enjoyed a supreme happiness.
It was not to last long. Apart from
where we sat, stood a knot of men belonging
to the Thirty-seventh. They threw at me
glances of fury— I had robbed them in turn:
of Georgette. That was their grievance.
Slowly they approached, in a body, towards
the alcove; the foremost amongst them, a
sergeant in the regiment, a man of gigantic
stature. ' Will mam'sell' dance ?' he said,
addressing Georgette; ' I claim her hand for
the next set.' Before she could reply I
observed, ' You are too soon, sergeant, mam'sell'
is engaged' ' And to whom, then ?' he asked,
frowning like a drum-major at the head of a
battalion; ' I see none here better than myself.'
'To me, sergeant,' I replied, with an admirable
calmness; ' I am the better man on this
occasion.' 'You! 'exclaimed the sergeant— his
name was Bousingot— 'a pleasant fellow this!'
I felt my blood heating, but yet appeared cool.
' Permit me to cause you to observe, Sergeant
Bousingot,' I said, ' that you interrupt a
conversation which you were not invited to join.'
Still polite, you see, monsieur. ' I require no
invitation,' he replied, rudely, ' Mam'sell'
Georgette is my acquaintance no less than
yours!' ' The laws of society, sergeant,' I
remarked, ' are then unknown to you!' His
face became redder than the beet-root you
see in yonder field. He uttered an expression
which I dare not repeat before madame.
That provoked me. I reminded him that his
manners were those of a cabaretier. His
insolence then passed all bounds. He conceived
to himself the idea of striking the cigar from
my mouth, but I arrested his hand in time
—he did not dishonour me before a lady.
' Enough, sergeant,' I said, ' this has become
a question for Mam'sell' Jacqueline.' You
understand, monsieur; that is our term for
a sabre. ' When I have had the honour to
dance once more with Mam'sell' Georgette,'
I continued, in an under tone, ' I am at your
disposition.' He withdrew, scowling, to join
his companions, with each of whom I foresaw
an affair. I conducted Mam'sell' Georgette
from the alcove, the beer being now finished,
and we returned to the dance. I never
danced better. ' You will not quarrel
on my account ?' said Georgette, ready to
cry. ' Do not dream of it,' I answered.
This I was obliged to say. One does not
speak the truth in such matters to women.
Pardon, madame! Monsieur will readily
conceive what followed. In half-an-hour from
that, time I was engaged in single combat
with Sergeant Bousingot. We fought on the