would he put himself under fire? And did not the Duke of Alba
encourage him in thinking that the worst trade in the world was the
involuntary exchange of a crown for a bullet? Hence, Montefiore was
Philippiste in his capacity of rich marquis and handsome man; and in
other respects also he was quite as profound a politician as Philip
the Second himself. He consoled himself for his nickname, and for the
disesteem of the regiment by thinking that his comrades were
blackguards, whose opinion would never be of any consequence to him if
by chance they survived the present war, which seemed to be one of
extermination. He relied on his face to win him promotion; he saw
himself made colonel by feminine influence and a carefully managed
transition from captain of equipment to orderly officer, and from
orderly officer to aide-de-camp on the staff of some easy-going
marshal. By that time, he reflected, he should come into his property
of a hundred thousand scudi a year, some journal would speak of him as
"the brave Montefiore," he would marry a girl of rank, and no one
would dare to dispute his courage or verify his wounds.

Captain Montefiore had one friend in the person of the quartermaster,
--a Provencal, born in the neighborhood of Nice, whose name was Diard.
A friend, whether at the galleys or in the garret of an artist,
consoles for many troubles. Now Montefiore and Diard were two
philosophers, who consoled each other for their present lives by the
study of vice, as artists soothe the immediate disappointment of their
hopes by the expectation of future fame. Both regarded the war in its
results, not its action; they simply considered those who died for
glory fools. Chance had made soldiers of them; whereas their natural
proclivities would have seated them at the green table of a congress.
Nature had poured Montefiore into the mould of a Rizzio, and Diard
into that of a diplomatist. Both were endowed with that nervous,