"Dermoncourt," said my father to a young aide-de-camp who slept in the next room to his, and who had been listening and looking on since the beginning of this scene with the greatest attention, not seeing what it was going to lead to.
"Here I am, General."
"You have heard?"
"What, General?"
"That this man has swallowed his despatches?"
"Yes."
"Two and a half hours ago?"
"Two and a half hours ago."
"Very well, go and find the chemist of the village and ask him whether it is a purgative or an emetic that should be given to a man to make him get rid of what he has taken two hours and a half ago; he is to tell you which will have the quickest result."
Five minutes later Dermoncourt returned, his hand at the salute and, with wonderful command of his features, he replied: