I ask the forbearance of my readers for so often digressing from my subject to speak of affairs of the heart such as this, but I am writing my Memoirs and not a history; my impressions, and not a compilation of dates: as my impressions recur to my memory, so do they cause a dark or a golden cloud to float between my eyes and my paper, according as they are sad or joyful.
We were now joined by a fine, handsome lad of between twenty and twenty-two. Carrel held out his hand to him.
"Oh! so it is you, Charras?" he said.
"Yes. I have been looking for you."
"For what purpose?"
"To ask you where they are fighting."
"Is there fighting anywhere?" Carrel questioned.
"My goodness! Of course there is!"
"Well! no matter; but I should never have thought it was so difficult a matter to get one's head broken.... Since yesterday night I have been running all over the place with that object in view and I haven't yet got my desire!"