"I don't see that there is anything to laugh at, monsieur. Would you like to have conclusive proof that the monster always intended to replace the French by negroes?"
"I should indeed, Mother Barbançon," exclaimed the veteran, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Come, let us have the proof."
"Ah, well, monsieur, hasn't everybody said for years that your Bû-û-onaparte treated the French like so many negroes?"
"Bravo, Mother Barbançon, bravo!"
"Well, isn't that proof enough that he would like to have had all negroes instead of Frenchmen under his thumb?"
"Thanks, Mother Barbançon!" exclaimed the poor commander, fairly writhing with merriment. "But this is too much, really too much!"
Two loud and imperious peals of the bell made the housekeeper spring from her chair and hurry out of the room, exclaiming:
"There is some one who rings in a lordly way, I must say."
And closing the door of the veteran's chamber behind her, Madame Barbançon flew to admit the visitor.
This proved to be a stout man about fifty years of age, wearing the uniform of a second lieutenant in the National Guard,—a uniform that gaped in a ridiculous manner behind, and disclosed to view in front an enormous stomach, over which dangled a big gold chain. This personage, who wore an immense bearskin hat that nearly covered his eyes, had a pompous and extremely self-important air.