"What's thy mess, boy?" said an old grenadier to me, as I sat at a little distance off, and affecting—but I fear very ill—a total indifference to what went forward.
"He is asking to what corps thou belong'st?" said another, seeing that the question puzzled me.
"Unfortunately I have none," said I. "I merely followed the march for curiosity."
"And thy father and mother, child—what will they say to thee on thy return home?"
"I have neither father, nor mother, nor home," said I, promptly.
"Just like myself," said an old red-whiskered sapeur; "or if I ever had parents, they never had the grace to own me. Come over here child, and take share of my dinner."
"No, parbleu! I'll have him for my comrade," cried the young hussar. "I was made a corporal yesterday, and have a large ration. Sit here, my boy, and tell us how art called."
"Maurice Tierney."
"Maurice will do; few of us care for more than one name, except in the dead muster they like to have it in full. Help thyself, my lad, and here's the wine-flask beside thee."
"How comes it thou hast this old uniform, boy," said he, pointing to my sleeve.