I had
a cousin a linen-draper, well-to-do, but very ugly. He had drawn
a good number, and sympathized when they thumped me. "To thee,
my cousin," I said, "to thee, in whose veins flows the blue blood
of our heroic grandparent, to thee I consign Annette. Watch
over her whilst I hunt for glory in the bloody field."
'"Make your mind easy," said he; "I will." As the sequel shows,
he did!
'I went. I lived in barracks on black soup. I am a refined
man and a poet by nature, and I suffered tortures from the coarse
horror of my surroundings. There was a drill sergeant, and he
had a cane. Ah, that cane, how it curled! Alas, never can I
forget it!
'One morning came the news; my battalion was ordered to Tonquin.
The drill sergeant and the other coarse monsters rejoiced.
I -- I made enquiries about Tonquin. They were not satisfactory.
In Tonquin are savage Chinese who rip you open. My artistic
tastes -- for I am also an artist -- recoiled from the idea of
being ripped open. The great man makes up his mind quickly.
I made up my mind. I determined not to be ripped open. I deserted.
'I reached Marseilles disguised as an old man. I went to the
house of my cousin -- he in whom runs my grandfather's heroic
blood -- and there sat Annette.
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