"Say, general, no jokes; it is not a final dismissal?"
"No, a fortnight's furlough."
"What for?"
"To go and see Mother Falou."
"Ah, yes, the poor old woman; that's so."
"Have you not your back-pay to carry her?"
"Ah! general, you have no idea of the quantity of brandy compresses that I had to put on this wound! It is like a mouth, it drinks and drinks, you have no idea how much."
"In other words your pay is almost gone?"
"Worse than my sword was when you were good enough to give me this one."
"Then I will do for your pay what I did for your sword."