“'How so, good fellow?' said the admiral himself, old Villaret Joyeuse, who always talked like one of ourselves. 'What is this book, then, that is so precious?'
“'I 'll show it you, sir, because I 've no fear of foul play at your hands; but there's not another man of the fleet I 'd let see it,' And with that I took it out of my breast, where I always carried it, and gave it to him. Ah! if you'd seen his face,—how it flushed up as he turned over the leaves, and how his eyes sparkled with fire!
“'Paul Dupont,' said he, 'are you aware what this is?'
“'Yes, Admiral,' said I, 'as well as you are.'
“'Your fortune's made, then, my brave fellow,' said he, slapping me on the shoulder. 'The finest frigate in the English navy is a less prize than this.'
“Mille tonnerres! how the others stared at me then. But I stood without minding how they looked, for I was the same Paul Dupont they laughed at a few minutes before.
“Meanwhile the admiral laid down the book on the table, and covered it with his cocked hat; and then taking a pen he wrote some lines on a piece of paper before him.
“'Will that do, Paul?' said he, handing it towards me.
“It was just this: 'Bureau of the Marine, Brest. Pay Paul Dupont the sum of ten thousand francs, for service rendered to his Imperial Majesty, and attested in a note by me Villaret Joyeuse, Admiral of France.'
“I could scarce read the lines, Comrades, for pure passion.