Perhaps a recruit
Might chance to shoot
Great General Buonaparte.
Well, well! it seems you soon got tired of glory, of which, from all I hear, a little goes very far with any man's stomach; and no wonder. Except a French bayonet, there 's nothing more indigestible than commissary bread.”
“The service is not without some hardships,” said Forester, blandly, and preferring to shelter himself under generality than invite further inquisitiveness.
“Cruelties you might call them,” rejoined Dempsey, with energy. “The frightful stories we read in the papers!—and I suppose they are all true. Were you ever touched up a bit yourself?” This Paul said in his most insinuating manner; and as Forester's stare showed a total ignorance of his meaning, he added, “A little four-and-twenty, I mean,” mimicking, as he spoke, the action of flogging.
“Sir!” exclaimed Forester, with an energy almost ferocious; and Dempsey made a spring backwards, and intrenched himself behind a sofa-table.
“Blood alive!” he exclaimed, “don't be angry. I wouldn't offend you for the world; but I thought—”
“Never mind, sir,-your apology is quite sufficient,” said Forester, who had no small difficulty to repress laughing at the terrified face before him. “I am quite convinced there was no intention to give offence.”
“Spoke like a man,” said Dempsey, coming out from his ambush with an outstretched hand; and Forester, not usually very unbending in such cases, could not help accepting the salutation so heartily proffered.
“Ah, my excellent friend, Mr. Dempsey!” said the Knight, entering at the same moment, and gayly tapping him on the shoulder. “A man I have long wished to see, and thank for many kind offices in my absence.—I 'm glad to see you are acquainted with Mr. Dempsey.—Well, and how fares the world with you?”
“Better, rather better, Knight,” said Paul, who had scarcely recovered the fright Forester had given him. “You've heard that old Bob's off? Didn't go till he could n't help it, though; and now your humble servant is the head of the house.”