"They've got them all, from my birth-certificate, down to the copy of my brevet colonel's commission.
You'll find out that they want a certificate of vaccination or some such six-penny shinplaster!" "Oh! Patience, young man! You've time enough to wait.

It's not such a case as mine: without the Italian campaign, which gave me a chance to snatch the baton, they would have slit my ear like a condemned horse, under the empty pretext that I was sixty-five years old.

You're not yet twenty-five, and you're on the point of becoming a brigadier: the Emperor promised it to you before me.

In four or five years from now, you'll have the gold stars, unless some bad luck interferes.

After which you'll need nothing but the command of an army and a successful campaign to make you Marshal of France and Senator, which may nothing prevent!" "Yes," responded Fougas; "I'll reach it.