"His furrier. I furnished his majesty's robes—not only his own, but those of all the kings he made. You know the Emperor used to make a king a year, and he used to insist that all his brothers and friends should reign only in my robes. I had the honor, therefore, of wrapping up the august forms of Kings Louis, Joseph, Jerome, Bernadotte and Murat, without particularizing the sovereign princes, grand dukes, and grand judges, who to please him dealt with me."
"To his health," said the Corsican, and he emptied the second glass. "You never served, Monsieur Morisseau?"
"Yes," said the furrier, "I marched beneath the imperial eagles. I belonged to the glorious army of the Sambre and Meuse. I even now suffer in my femur."
"From a ball?"
"No, from the rheumatism, contracted during a forced march during the winter of '93. Having been surprised during the night by the enemy, I had not time to dress myself comfortably, and was compelled to march fifteen leagues barefooted, and in my drawers. That, by the bye, was the usual uniform of our army. Those who were best dressed only wore shoes and pantaloons. To dress thus, though, something more than our pay was necessary, which we never got."
"You were then discharged?"
"Yes, for my rheumatism became very severe. But for it I might now be a general. I asked a pension as having been wounded in service. It was, however, refused me—a great injustice."
"The soup is gone. It is a very indigestible food, and we must therefore attack the enemy in his strong-holds. Two glasses of vin de Beaume will settle him."
"But," said Morisseau, as he saw his host filling up his glass, "my head is very weak, and I have not gotten drunk since I left the service."
"So be it, dear Morisseau. I will go for the second service, which the restorateur leaves in the kitchen. Excuse my having no servant, but two old soldiers like us can do without attendants."