O'Brien told me, after we had quitted the town, that had it not been for the handsome conduct of the officers, he would not have accepted our parole, as he felt convinced that we could have easily made our escape.

We talked over the matter a long while, and at last agreed that there would be a better chance of success by and by, when more closely guarded, than there would be now, under consideration of all circumstances, as it required previously concerted arrangements to get out of the country.
I had almost forgotten to say, that on our return after the duel the cutter's midshipman called out to O'Brien, requesting him to state to the commandant that he was also an officer; but O'Brien replied, that there was no evidence for it but his bare word.

If he was an officer he must prove it himself, as everything in his appearance flatly contradicted his assertion.
"It's very hard," replied the midshipman, "that because my jacket's a little tarry or so I must lose my rank." "My dear fellow," replied O'Brien, "it's not because your jacket's a little tarry; it is because what the Frenchmen call your _tout ensemble_ is quite disgraceful in an officer.

Look at your face in the first puddle, and you'll find that it would dirty the water you look into.
Look at your shoulders above your ears, and your back with a bow like a _kink_ in a cable.

Your trowsers, sir, you have pulled your legs too far through, showing a foot and a half of worsted stockings.