It was easy to see that he was an Italian.
"A gallant young cock enough," the soldier who had whistled answered; "and not quite of the breed we expected." He held his lanthorn towards me and pointed to the white badge on my sleeve.

"It strikes me we have caught a crow instead of a pigeon!" "How comes this ?" the Italian asked harshly, addressing me.

"Who are you?
And why do you wish to cross the river at this time of night, young sir ?" I acted on the inspiration of the moment.

"Play the man boldly!" Madame had said.

I would: and I did with a vengeance.