"What do you say, Plumard? Enlist—go into the army—carry a musket! Nay, nay! by all the devils, that is not my vocation! Though I should have to take another turn in my saddle girth and drink nothing but water, I propose to retain my liberty."
"Oh, well! don't be so disturbed, my poor Bahuchet! you won't be enlisted. Indeed, you know very well that, even if you wanted to go for a soldier, they wouldn't take you! you're too small! you haven't the build!"
Bahuchet bit his lips and elevated his nose, as he rejoined, with a mocking smile:
"If they don't want short men in the army, I fancy they don't care much about having bald-headed ones either."
"You are an ass, my boy; as a soldier never goes bareheaded, either in battle or on parade, he is entitled to have no hair if he pleases."
"You lie; it's part of the uniform; soldiers have their hair dressed—they wear pigtails."
"I have some hair at the back of my head, to make a pigtail if need be."
"Oh! that would be very pretty! a pigtail hanging from a pate as bald as one's knee!"
"It would be quite as pretty as a dwarf in uniform, whose sword dragged on the ground!"
"Plumard, I believe that you are pining for a drubbing!"