"Damn the Golden Dog and his
master both!" exclaimed he. "Philibert shall pay with his life for
the outrage of to-day, or I will lose mine! The dirt is not off my
coat yet, Cadet!" said he, as he pointed to a spatter of mud upon
his breast. "A pretty medal that for the Intendant to wear in a
Council of War!"
"Council of War!" replied Cadet, setting his goblet down with a bang
upon the polished table, after draining it to the bottom. "I would
like to go through that mob again! and I would pull an oar in the
galleys of Marseilles rather than be questioned with that air of
authority by a botanizing quack like La Galissoniere! Such
villainous questions as he asked me about the state of the royal
magazines! La Galissoniere had more the air of a judge cross-
examining a culprit than of a Governor asking information of a
king's officer!"
"True, Cadet!" replied Varin, who was always a flatterer, and who at
last saved his ill-gotten wealth by the surrender of his wife as a
love-gift to the Duc de Choiseul. "We all have our own injuries to
bear.
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