s de son genre, elle n'a meme pas les vices de son sexe. Elle
m'aime tellement bien qu'elle ne veut etre distraite par aucun autre
amour. Elle vit dans le plus rigoureux celibat. La malheureuse," he said
every now and then, "elle a failli se compromettre."

In spite of the marshal's boast about Brusca's morals, he was one day
compelled to admit a faux pas on her part, and for some weeks the "vet"
had an anxious time for it. "Elle a mal tourne, mais que voulez-vous, je
ne vais pas l'abandonner." And when the crisis was over: "Son incartade
ne lui a pas porte bonheur. Esperons que la lecon lui profitera."

Brusca had her portrait painted by the "Michael-Angelo of dogs," Jadin,
and when it was finished the visitors were given an opportunity of
admiring it in the drawing-room, where it was on view for several
consecutive Tuesdays. After that, a great many of the marshal's
familiars, supposed to be capable of doing justice to Brusca's character
in verse, were appealed to, to write her panegyric, but though several
Academicians tried their hands, their lucubrations were not deemed
worthy to be inscribed on the frame of Brusca's portrait, albeit that
one or two--the first in Greek--were engrossed on vellum, and adorned
the drawing-room table. The effusion that did eventually adorn the frame
was by an anonymous author--it was shrewdly suspected that it was by the
marshal himself, and ran as follows:--

"Si je suis pres de lui, c'est que je le merite.
Revez mon sort brilliant; revez, ambitieux!
Du bien de mon maitre en ami je profite,
J'aimerais son pain noir s'il etait malheureux."

Another peculiarity of Marshal Vaillant was never to accept a letter not
prepaid or insufficiently paid. The rule was so strictly enforced, both
in his private and official capacity, that many a valuable report was
ruthlessly refused, and had to be traced afterwards through the various
post-offices of Europe.

Seven times out of ten the marshal, when travelling by himself, missed
his train. This would lead one to infer that he was unpunctual; on the
contrary, he was the spirit of punctuality. Unfortunately, he over-did
the thing. He generally reached the station half an hour or
three-quarters before the time, seated himself down in a corner, dozed
off, and did not wake up until it was too late. The marshal was a native
of Dyon; and at Nuits, situated between the former town and Beaune,
there lived a middle-aged spinster cousin whom h