"Can't you see the lean face under it, the dark eyes, the dark hair falling upon his collar?
What thoughts have run riot under this piece of felt?
The brain, the brain! A lieutenant at this time; a short, wiry, cold-blooded youngster, but dreaming the greatest dream in the world!" Fitzgerald smiled.

"You are an enthusiast like myself." "Who wouldn't be who has, visited every battlefield, who has spent days wandering about Corsica, Elba, St.Helena?
But you ?" "My word, I have done the same things." They exchanged smiles.
"What written tale can compare with this living one ?" continued Breitmann, his eyes brilliant, his voice eager and the tone rich.

"Ah! How many times have I berated the day I was born! To have lived in that day, to have been a part of that bewildering war panorama; from Toulon to Waterloo! Pardon; perhaps I bore you ?" "By George, no! I'm as bad, if not worse.

I shall never forgive one of my forebears for serving under Wellington." "Nor I one of mine for serving under Bluecher!" They laughed aloud this time.

It is always pleasant to meet a person who waxes enthusiastic over the same things as oneself.