"May?"
"Yes, Jules."
"Then it will be your own fault, ma belle coquette, and not the fault of others."
"Parbleu! I sha'n't marry a Zouave, at all events."
"Don't speak so cruelly, Sophie. When I look on your charming face, I always think of glorious Paris. Paris! Ah, mon Dieu! shall we ever see it again?"
"Why did you leave it, Jules, and your studies at the Ecole de Médecin, to fight and starve here?"
"Why?" exclaimed the student.
"Yes, mon ami."
"The old girl at the wheel, Madame Fortune, proved false to me. I lost my last money, fifty Napoleons, at the rouge-et-noir table in the Palais Royal. I was ruined, Sophie; and as I had no wish to jump into the Seine, and then to figure next morning on the leaden tables of the Morgue, like a salmon at the fishmonger's, I joined the 2nd Zouaves in the snapping of a flint, and so—am here."
"You will return with your epaulettes and the cross, Jules."