"Why the devil not the English first, then go to France, and lick the Orleans!" "They're a skittish lot, the Orleans; they might take it in their heads to fight," suggested Muroc, with a little grin.
"What the devil do you expect ?" roared the blacksmith, blowing the bellows hard in his excitement, one arm still round his daughter's shoulder.

"D'you think we're going to play leap-frog into the Tuileries?
There's blood to let, and we're to let it!" "Good, my leeches!" said Parpon; "you shall have blood to suck.

But we'll leave the English be.

France first, then our dogs will take a snap at the flag on the citadel yonder." He nodded in the direction of Quebec.
Lagroin then put five gold pieces each into the hands of Muroc and Duclosse, and said: "I take you into the service of Prince Valmond Napoleon, and you do hereby swear to serve him loyally, even to the shedding of your blood, for his honour and the honour of France; and you do also vow to require a like loyalty and obedience of all men under your command.

Swear." There was a slight pause, for the old man's voice had the ring of a fatal earnestness.