Enough, however, was left to render the
lieutenant independent of his military expectations: he had joined the
army when young; seen service and the world in many climates; but the
natural uncompromising spirit which distinguished him, partaking perhaps
something too much of the pride of ancestry, had hitherto prevented his
soliciting the promotion he was fairly entitled to. Like a majority of
his countrymen, he was cold and sententious as a Laplander when sober,
and warm and volatile as a Frenchman when in his cups; half a dozen
duels had been the natural consequence of an equal number of intrigues;
but although the scars of honour had seared his manly countenance, his
heart and person were yet devoted to the service of the ladies. Fame had
trumpeted forth his prowess in the wars of ~196~~Venus, until notoriety
had marked him out an object of general remark, and the king's
lieutenant was as proud of the myrtle-wreath as the hero of Waterloo
might be of the laurel crown.
But see, the door opens; how perfumed, what style! Long bows to the
earth. What an exquisite smile! Such a coffee-house visitor banishes
pain: While Optimus rising, cries "Welcome, Joe Hayne! May you never
want cash, boy--here, waiter, a glass; Lieutenant, you'll join us in
toasting a lass. I'll give you an actress--Maria the fair.
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