"He is Bel-a-faire-peur, as you nickname him." "A woman's face!" growled the injured Tata; whose own countenance was of the color and well-nigh of the flatness of one of the red bricks of the wall.
"Ouf!" said the Friend of the Flag, with more expression in that single exclamation than could be put in a volume.

"He does woman's deeds, does he?
He has woman's hands, but they can fight, I fancy?
Six Arabs to his own sword the other day in that skirmish! Superb!" "Sapristi! And what did he say, this droll, when he looked at them lying there?
Just shrugged his shoulders and rode away.

'I'd better have killed myself; less mischief, on the whole!' Now who is to make anything of such a man as that ?" "Ah! he did not stop to cut their gold buttons off, and steal their cangiars, as thou wouldst have done, Tata?
Well! he has not learned la guerre," laughed Cigarette.

"It was a waste; he should have brought me their sashes, at least.

By the way--when did he join ?" "Ten--twelve--years ago, or thereabouts." "He should have learned to strip Arabs by this time, then," said the Amie du Drapeau, turning the tap of her barrel to replenish the wine-cup; "and to steal from them too, living or dead.