"Hide my gun," he whispered to his wife.
The two men who now crossed the wide open space of the _rond-point_ were typical enough for a painter.

One, who appeared to be the subaltern, wore top-boots, turned down rather low, showing well-made calves, and colored silk stockings of doubtful cleanliness.

The breeches, of ribbed cloth, apricot color with metal buttons, were too large; they were baggy about the body, and the lines of their creases seemed to indicate a sedentary man.

A marseilles waistcoat, overloaded with embroidery, open, and held together by one button only just above the stomach, gave to the wearer a dissipated look,--all the more so, because his jet black hair, in corkscrew curls, hid his forehead and hung down his cheeks.

Two steel watch-chains were festooned upon his breeches.