leggings on once more."

"This hat, now. We do not wear our brims flat like that. See if I
cannot mend it." He took the beaver, and looping up one side of the
brim, he fastened it with a golden brooch taken from his own shirt
front. "There is a martial cock," said he, laughing, "and would do
credit to the King's Own Musketeers. The black broad-cloth and silk
hose will pass, but why have you not a sword at your side?"

"I carry a gun when I ride out."

"_Mon Dieu_, you will be laid by the heels as a bandit!"

"I have a knife, too."

"Worse and worse! Well, we must dispense with the sword, and with the
gun too, I pray! Let me re-tie your cravat. So! Now if you are in the
mood for a ten-mile gallop, I am at your service."

They were indeed a singular contrast as they walked their horses
together through the narrow and crowded causeways of the Parisian
streets. De Catinat, who was the older by five years, with his delicate
small-featured face, his sharply trimmed moustache, his small but
well-set and dainty figure, and his brilliant dress, looked the very
type of the great nation to which he belonged.

His companion, however, large-limbed and strong, turning his bold and
yet thoughtful face from side to side, and eagerly taking in all the
strange, new life amidst which he found himself, was also a type,
unfinished, it is true, but bidding fair to be the higher of the two.