evinced for his
orphan charges an exquisite solicitude, a watchful kindness, and a
tenderness almost maternal. Yes, motherly; for the heroism of affection
dwells alike in the mother's heart and the soldiers.

Stoically calm, and repressing all emotion, the unchangeable coolness of
Dagobert never failed him; and, though few were less given to drollery,
he was now and then highly comic, by reason of the imperturbable gravity
with which he did everything.

From time to time, as they journeyed on, Dagobert would turn to bestow
a caress or friendly word on the good white home upon which the orphans
were mounted. Its furrowed sides and long teeth betrayed a venerable
age. Two deep scars, one on the flank and the other on the chest, proved
that his horse had been present in hot battles; nor was it without an
act of pride that he sometimes shook his old military bridle, the brass
stud of which was still adorned with an embossed eagle. His pace was
regular, careful, and steady; his coat sleek, and his bulk moderate; the
abundant foam, which covered his bit, bore witness to that health which
horses acquire by the constant, but not excessive, labor of a long
journey, performed by short stages. Although he had been more than six
months on the road, this excellent animal carried the orphans, with a
tolerably heavy portmanteau fastened to the saddle, as freely as on the
day they started.

If we have spoken of the excessive length of the horse's teeth--the
unquestionable evidence of great age--it is chiefly because he often
displayed them, for the sole purpose of acting up to his name (he was
called Jovial), by playing a mischievous trick, of which the dog was the
victim.

This latter, who, doubtless for the sake of contrast, was called
Spoil-sport (Rabat-joie), being always at his master's heels, found
himself within the reach of Jovial, who from time to time nipped him
delicately by the nape of the neck, lifted him from the ground, and
carried him thus for a moment. The dog, protected by his thick coat,
and no doubt long accustomed to the practical jokes of his companion,
submitted to all this with stoical complacency; save that, when he
thought the jest had lasted long enough, he would turn his head and
growl. Jovial understood him at the first hint, and hastened to set him
down again. At other times, just to avoid monotony, Jovial would gently
bite the knapsack of the soldier, who seemed, as well as the dog, to be
perfectly