Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 79: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

48 Pickwick Abroad. Emperor to Paris—poor Dumont one day found that his exchequer was totally exhausted. Had it not been for his solicitude on my account, his countenance would not have lost one iota of that happy expression which was its chief characteristic: but when his eye fell upon my de- licate little frame, the hardy veteran wept! In vain did he utter his usual oaths of “ Melle Baionnettes !” “ Mille Escadrons!’ &c.,— in vain did he twist and twirl his long moustachios, and contemplate his red riband—all was ineffectual—he could not conceal his emo- tions—and he wept. ; Ashamed of having given way to those feelings, which in reality did him honour, Dumont hastened to the Garden of the Tuileries, to saunter beneath the green foliage of the trees, and compose his mind to reflect with calmness on the difficulties of his position, as well as to consider what steps he ought to pursue. As he was lounging up the secluded walk in the middle, which now affords that fine view from the centre of the palace to the Triumphal Arch at the end of the Champs Elysées, the sound of hasty steps ap- proaching aroused him from a painful reverie. He raised his eyes from the ground on which they had been hitherto bent, and his care- less glance encountered the light blue eye ofa little gentleman dressed in plain attire, with a small cocked-hat, and the legion of honour’s emblem in his button-hole. Dumont did not look at the stranger twice, but he immediately suspected him to be an officer, and saluted him accordingly ; having performed which ceremony, he again cast his eyes on the ground in a thoughtful manner. The mark of respect, with which he had accosted the military gentleman, was however duly returned ; and the following dialogue ensued. “Who are you?” enquired the little man. | ‘“‘ Hector Dumont,” was the reply; “lately one of the veterans in his Majesty’s Imperial Guard.” ‘< Where did you obtain that cross ?” | ‘At Austerlitz !’’ answered the old soldier, keeping his eyes fixed upon the ground, as he awaited fresh queries. _ © And what are you doing now? how do you live ?” Dumont related the history of his difficulties with unsophisticated frankness. | ‘“°Tis well!’’ said the little man, taking his tablets from his pocket: ‘‘ where do you reside?” Dumont mentioned his address, which his interrogator instantly wrote down, assuring the veteran at the same time that he should hear _ from him. A little of that curiosity, which we mherit from Dame Eve, now dispelled a portion of the timidity that Dumont naturally felt when conversing with one whom he knew to be his superior; and in a respectful tone of voice he said, “fon Capitaine, I have now answered your queries: might £ make bold to put one or two to ou ?” : i: Proceed,” returned the little man good-naturedly. ‘“‘ Well, then,’’ said Dumont, ‘‘I shall catechise you as you did me. What is your name?—Who are you ?—Where did you obtain that cross ?~-And where do you live?” ‘‘T shall reply as briefly as you have questioned me,” cried the little man, “To your first query I answer, Napoleon/—To your Gomichbooks (E(0)