Those men whose numbers were drawn had to go for soldiers.
Jacintha awaited the result in great anxiety. She could not sit at home
for it; so she went down the road to meet Dard, who had promised to
come and tell her the result as soon as known. At last she saw him
approaching in a disconsolate way. "O Dard! speak! are we undone? are
you a dead man?" cried she. "Have they made a soldier of you?"
"No such luck: I shall die a man of all work," grunted Dard.
"And you are sorry? you unnatural little monster! you have no feeling
for me, then."
"Oh, yes, I have; but glory is No. 1 with me now."
"How loud the bantams crow! You leave glory to fools that be six feet
high."
"General Bonaparte isn't much higher than I am, and glory sits upon his
brow. Why shouldn't glory sit upon my brow?"
"Because it would weigh you down, and smother you, you little fool."
She added, "And think of me, that couldn't bear you to be killed at any
price, glory or no glory."
Then, to appease her fears, Dard showed her his number, 99; and assured
her he had seen the last number in the functionary's hand before he came
away, and it was sixty something.
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