tilted to one side. Compared to the peasants, who were mostly in rags,
like Mouche and Fourchon, he seemed gorgeous in his linen trousers,
boots, and short waistcoat. These articles, bought at the time of his
liberation, were, it is true, somewhat the worse for a life in the
fields; but this village cock-of-the-walk had others in reserve for
balls and holidays. He lived, it must be said, on the gifts of his
female friends, which, liberal as they were, hardly sufficed for the
libations, the dissipations, and the squanderings of all kinds which
resulted from his intimacy with the Cafe de la Paix.

Cowardice is like courage; of both there are various kinds. Bonnebault
would have fought like a brave soldier, but he was weak in presence of
his vices and his desires. Lazy as a lizard, that is to say, active
only when it suited him, without the slightest decency, arrogant and
base, able for much but neglectful of all, the sole pleasure of this
"breaker of hearts and plates," to use a barrack term, was to do evil
or inflict damage. Such a nature does as much harm in rural
communities as it does in a regiment. Bonnebault, like Tonsard and
like Fourchon, desired to live well and do nothing; and he had his
plans laid. Making the most of his gallant appearance with increasing
success, and of his talents for billiards with alternate loss and
gain, he flattered himself that the day would come when he could marry
Mademoiselle Aglae Socquard, only daughter of the proprietor of the
Cafe de la Paix, a resort which was to Soulanges what, relatively
speaking, Ranelagh is to the Bois de Boulogne. To get into the
business of tavern-keeping, to manage the public balls, what a fine
career for the marshal's baton of a ne'er-do-well! These morals, this
life, this nature, were so plainly stamped upon the face of the
low-lived profligate that the countess was betrayed into an exclamation
when she beheld the pair, for they gave her the sensation of beholding