"And now," said he, after an account of the last action he had seen, "and now, enough of myself; let's talk of thee. Where hast thou been?"
"Here!" said I, with a sigh, and in a voice that shame had almost made inaudible; "Here, here, at Nancy."
"Not always here?"
"Just so. Always here."
"And what doing, mon cher. Thou art not one of the Municipal Guard, surely?"
"No," said I, smiling sadly; "I belong to the 'Ecole d'Equitation.'"
"Ah, that's it," said he, in somewhat of confusion; "I always thought they selected old sergeants en retraite, worn out veterans, and wounded fellows, for riding-school duty."
"Most of ours are such," said I, my shame increasing at every word—"but somehow they chose me also, and I had no will in the matter—"
"No will in the matter, parbleu! and why not? Every man in France has a right to meet the enemy in the field. Thou art a soldier, a hussar of the 9th, a brave and gallant corps, and art to be told, that thy comrades have the road to fame and honor open to them; while thou art to mope away life like an invalided drummer? It is too gross an indignity, my boy, and must not be borne. Away with you to-morrow at day-break to the 'Etat Major,' ask to see the commandant. You're in luck, too, for our colonel is with him now, and he is sure to back your request. Say that you served in the school to oblige your superiors; but that you can not see all chances of distinction lost to you forever, by remaining there. They've given you no grade yet, I see," continued he, looking at my arm.
"None: I am still a private."