"Do you play the piano? Do you catch cold easily?"
If the officer replied in the negative, the King said, "That's all right," and the aide-de-camp was appointed; but if, by ill-luck, the poor fellow returned an evasive answer, his fate was doomed: he went straight back to his regiment.
This inexplicable dread of the corizza had attained such proportions that, during the last years of the King's life, the people about him—including the ladies—discovered a simple and ingenious expedient for obtaining a day's leave when they wanted it: they simply sneezed without stopping. At the third explosion, the old sovereign gave a suspicious look at the sneezer and said:
"I sha'n't want you to-day."
And the trick was done.
On the other hand, he showed himself very indulgent towards his younger officers' adventures in the world of gallantry. I remember his chaffing one of them, one morning, at Nice. Captain Binjé, an officer whose intelligence, activity and devotion had earned his appreciation, was a little late on duty that morning; and moreover his clothes emitted a very strong scent. The King at once began to sniff:
"Oof! Oof!" he said. "I'll wager you struck a flower on your road here!"
"Y-your M-majesty," stammered the officer.
"All right, all right, my boy: you can't help it, at your age!"