"Father," she said, "Monsieur Valmond wants you for a soldier."

"Wants me?" he roared in astonishment. "Who's to shoe the horses a week
days, and throw the weight o' Sundays after mass? Who's to handle a
stick for the Cure when there's fighting among the river-men?

"But there, la, la! many a time my wife, my good Florienne, said to me,
'Jose--Jose Lajeunesse, with a chest like yours, you ought to be a
corporal at least.'"

Parpon beckoned to Lagroin, and nodded. "Corporal! corporal!" cried
Lagroin; "in a week you shall be a lieutenant and a month shall make you
a captain, and maybe better than that!"

"Better than that--bagosh!" cried the charcoalman in surprise, proudly
using the innocuous English oath. "Better than that--sutler, maybe?"
said the mealman, smacking his lips.

"Better than that," replied Lagroin, swelling with importance. "Ay, ay,
my dears, great things are for you. I command the army, and I have free
hand from my master. Ah, what joy to serve a Napoleon once again! What
joy! Lord, how I remember--"

"Better than that-eh?" persisted Duclosse, perspiring, the meal on his
face making a sort of paste.

"A general or a governor, my children," said Lagroin. "First in, first
served. Best men, best pickings. But every man must love his chief, and
serve him with blood and bayonet; and march o' nights if need, and limber
up the guns if need, and shoe a horse if need, and draw a cork if need,