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the Louis XV. pattern, bearing on his breast the little oval
plaque of red cloth, with the crossed swords, the soldier’s
cross of Saint-Louis, and adorned, in addition, with a coat-
sleeve, which had no arm within it, with a silver chin and
a wooden leg. Marius thought he perceived that this man
had an extremely well satisfied air. It even struck him that
the aged cynic, as he hobbled along past him, addressed to
him a very fraternal and very merry wink, as though some
chance had created an understanding between them, and as
though they had shared some piece of good luck together.
What did that relic of Mars mean by being so contented?
What had passed between that wooden leg and the other?
Marius reached a paroxysm of jealousy.—‘Perhaps he was
there!’ he said to himself; ‘perhaps he saw!’—And he felt a
desire to exterminate the veteran.
With the aid of time, all points grow dull. Marius’ wrath
against ‘Ursule,’ just and legitimate as it was, passed off.
He finally pardoned her; but this cost him a great effort; he
sulked for three days.
Nevertheless, in spite of all this, and because of all this,
his passion augmented and grew to madness.