"Monsieur Delsarte. Your Majesty has perhaps heard of him?"
"No," answered the Emperor. "I have never heard of him. Is he a great singer?"
"He cannot sing at all, your Majesty; but he has wonderful theories which go to prove that one does not need any voice at all to sing; one only needs features to express one's emotions."
"He must be wonderful," the Emperor remarked.
"He is, your Majesty, and quite unique in his way. He says, for instance, when he sings, 'J'ai du bon tabac dans ma tabatière,' and comes to 'Tu n'en auras pas,' he can make people shed bitter tears, as though it were too much to bear."
"His tobacco must be very good?" laughed the Emperor.
"It is the worst thing of its kind, your Majesty, one can imagine," I answered.
"Is it perhaps Caporal?" said he, with a merry twinkle in his eye.
"I don't know anything about military grades, but, if there were anything lower than a Caporal I should say it was the name of his tobacco."
"Well," he said, "if he taught you to sing as you sing, il mérite de la patrie."