reasonable view of life.

Punctually at seven o'clock, a cab stopped before the house, (the
lieutenant invariably arrived in a cab) and immediately after Theodore
heard the ringing of his spurs and the rattling of his sword on the
stairs.

"Good evening, you old mole," said the elder brother with a laugh. He
was the picture of health and youth. His highly-polished Hessian boots
revealed a pair of fine legs, his tunic outlined the loins of a
cart-horse; the golden bandolier of his cartridge box made his chest
appear broader and his sword-belt showed off a pair of enormous thighs.

He glanced at the text and grinned, but said nothing.

"Come along, old man, let's be off to Bellevue! We'll call on the
gardener there and make arrangements for the old man's birthday. Put
on your hat, and come, old chap!"

Theodore tried to think of an excuse, but the brother took him by the
arm, put a hat on his head, back to front, pushed a cigarette between
his lips and opened the door. Theodore felt like a fish out of water,
but he went with his brother.

"To Bellevue!" said the lieutenant to the cab-driver, "and mind you
make your thoroughbreds fly!"

Theodore could not help being amused. It would never have occurred to
him to address an elderly married man, like the cabman, with so much
familiarity.