"He will be here in five minutes."
The three messengers bowed and went out. Five minutes later, citizen Falou presented himself, wearing the general's sword at his side with great dignity.
Since the general had seen him his face had undergone a change. A gash, beginning at the ear and extending to his upper lip, had cut open his right cheek; the flesh was held in place by strips of plaster.
"Ah!" said Pichegru, "it looks as if your defence had come rather late."
"That's not it, general," replied Falou; "but they were three to my one; and before I had time to kill the other two, the third had given me this razor-cut. It's nothing; it would be healed already if we had had any wind. Unfortunately the weather is damp."
"Well, upon my honor, I am not sorry that it has happened to you."
"Thanks, general; a fine scar like that does not harm a chasseur's face."
"That was not what I meant."
"What then?"
"It will give me an excuse to send you away."