hundred times bitten his lips, stretched his legs and his
arms like a well-brought-up child who, without daring to
gape, exhausts all the modes of evincing his weariness --
after having uselessly again implored his mother and the
minister, he turned a despairing look towards the door, that
is to say, towards liberty.

At this door, in the embrasure of which he was leaning, he
saw, standing out strongly, a figure with a brown and lofty
countenance, an aquiline nose, a stern but brilliant eye,
gray and long hair, a black mustache, the true type of
military beauty, whose gorget, more sparkling than a mirror,
broke all the reflected lights which concentrated upon it,
and sent them back as lightning. This officer wore his gray
hat with its long red plumes upon his head, a proof that he
was called there by his duty, and not by his pleasure. If he
had been brought thither by his pleasure -- if he had been a
courtier instead of a soldier, as pleasure must always be
paid for at the same price -- he would have held his hat in
his hand.

That which proved still better that this officer was upon
duty, and was accomplishing a task to which he was
accustomed, was, that he watched, with folded arms,
remarkable indifference, and supreme apathy, the joys and
ennuis of this fete. Above all, he appeared, like a
philosopher, and all old soldiers are philosophers, -- he
appeared above all to comprehend the ennuis infinitely
better than the joys; but in the one he took his part,
knowing very well how to do without the other.