Chazot gave an involuntary gasp.
"But, citizen——!" he exclaimed.
"Eh? What?" the other retorted sharply. "In the service of the Republic there is no 'but,' sergeant Chazot."
"I know that, citizen," Chazot, abashed, murmured humbly. "I only meant . . . it seems so strange . . ."
"Stranger things than that occur every day in Paris, my friend," Chauvelin said dryly. "We brand horses that are the property of the State; why not a man? Time may come," he added with a vicious snarl, "when the Republic may demand that every loyal citizen carry—indelibly branded in his flesh and by order of the State—the sign of his own allegiance."
"'Tis not for me to argue, citizen," Chazot rejoined, with a careless shrug of the shoulders. "If you tell me to take citizen Rateau over to the veterinary at the cavalry barracks and have him branded like cattle, why . . ."
"Not like cattle, citizen," Chauvelin broke in blandly. "You shall commence proceedings by administering to citizen Rateau a whole bottle of excellent eau de vie, at the Government's expense. Then, when he is thoroughly and irretrievably drunk, the veterinary will put the brand upon his left forearm . . . just one letter. . . . Why, the drunken reprobate will never feel it!"
"As you command, citizen," Chazot assented with perfect indifference. "I am not responsible. I do as I'm told."
"Like the fine soldier that you are, citizen Chazot!" Chauvelin concluded. "And I know that I can trust to your discretion."
"Oh, as to that——!"