Page 1811 - les-miserables
P. 1811

prominent ribs, oblique shoulders and a powerful crupper.
         A little more than fifteen hands in height.’
            ‘A pretty horse,’ remarked the hair-dresser.
            ‘It was His Majesty’s beast.’
            The hair-dresser felt, that after this observation, a short
         silence would be fitting, so he conformed himself to it, and
         then went on:—
            ‘The Emperor was never wounded but once, was he, sir?’
            The old soldier replied with the calm and sovereign tone
         of a man who had been there:—
            ‘In the heel. At Ratisbon. I never saw him so well dressed
         as on that day. He was as neat as a new sou.’
            ‘And you, Mr. Veteran, you must have been often wound-
         ed?’
            ‘I?’ said the soldier, ‘ah! not to amount to anything. At
         Marengo, I received two sabre-blows on the back of my neck,
         a bullet in the right arm at Austerlitz, another in the left hip
         at Jena. At Friedland, a thrust from a bayonet, there,—at the
         Moskowa seven or eight lance-thrusts, no matter where, at
         Lutzen a splinter of a shell crushed one of my fingers. Ah!
         and then at Waterloo, a ball from a biscaien in the thigh,
         that’s all.’
            ‘How fine that is!’ exclaimed the hair-dresser, in Pindaric
         accents, ‘to die on the field of battle! On my word of honor,
         rather than die in bed, of an illness, slowly, a bit by bit each
         day, with drugs, cataplasms, syringes, medicines, I should
         prefer to receive a cannon-ball in my belly!’
            ‘You’re not over fastidious,’ said the soldier.
            He had hardly spoken when a fearful crash shook the

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