At the entrance, as she reined up, she saw the very person she wanted, and signed him to her as carelessly as if he were a conscript instead of that powerful officer, Francois Vireflau, captain and adjutant.
"Hola!" she cried, as she signaled him; Cigarette was privileged all through the army.

"Adjutant Vireflau, I come to tell you a good story for your folios.

There is your Corporal there--le beau Victor--has been attacked by four drunken dogs of Arbicos, dead-drunk, and four against one.

He fought them superbly, but he would only parry, not thrust, because he knows how strict the rules are about dealing with the scoundrels--even when they are murdering you, parbleu! He has behaved splendidly.

I tell you so.