His cheek flushed and his eye glittered with joy.

The aide-de-camp next gave him a parcel: "Your epaulets, colonel! We hear you are going into the wilds where epaulets don't grow.

You are to join the army of the Rhine as soon as your wound is well." "Wherever my country calls me." "Your address, then, colonel, that we may know where to put our finger on a tried soldier when we want one." "I am going to Beaurepaire." "Beaurepaire?
I never heard of it." "You never heard of Beaurepaire?
it is in Brittany, forty-five leagues from Paris, forty-three leagues and a half from here." "Good! Health and honor to you, colonel." "The same to you, lieutenant; or a soldier's death." The new colonel read the precious document across his horse's mane, and then he was going to put one of the epaulets on his right shoulder, bare at present: but he reflected.
"No; she should make him a colonel with her own dear hand.

He put them in his pocket.

He would not even look at them till she had seen them.
Oh, how happy he was not only to come back to her alive, but to come back to her honored." His wound smarted, his limbs ached, but no pain past or present could lay hold of his mind.