"Indeed we were," answered Chapeau, "wringing wet, every man of us."
"Lawks! how uncomfortable," said the cook. "And M. Henri, was he wet
too?"
"Wet, to be sure he was wet as water could make him."
"And the little Chevalier, did he get himself wet?" said the
confidential maid, "poor little fellow! it was like to give him his
death of cold."
"But, Chapeau, tell me truly now: did you kill any of those bloody
republicans with your own hand?" asked the housekeeper.
"Kill them," said Chapeau, "to be sure, I killed them when we were
fighting."
"And how many, Chapeau; how many did you positively kill dead, you
know?" said the confidential maid.
"What nonsense you do talk!" answered he, with a great air of military
knowledge, "as if a man in battle knows when he kills and when he
doesn't. You're not able to look about you in that sort of way in the
middle of the smoke and noise and confusion."
"You don't mean to tell me you ever kill a man without knowing it!" said
the housekeeper.
"You don't understand what a battle is at all," answered Chapeau,
determined to communicate a little of his experience on the matter.
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