oken to the veteran of the riot, then of General Lamarque, and from Lamarque they had passed to the Emperor.
Thence sprang up a conversation between barber and soldier which Prudhomme, had he been present, would have enriched with arabesques, and which he would have entitled: "Dialogue between the razor and the sword."
"How did the Emperor ride, sir?" said the barber.
"Badly.
He did not know how to fall--so he never fell."
"Did he have fine horses?
He must have had fine horses!"
"On the day when he gave me my cross, I noticed his beast. It was a racing mare, perfectly white.
Her ears were very wide apart, her saddle deep, a fine head marked with a black star, a very long neck, strongly articulated knees, prominent ribs, oblique shoulders and a powerful crupper.
A little more than fifteen hands in height."
"A pretty horse," remarked the hair-dresser.
"It was His Majesty''s beast."
The hair-dresser felt, that after this observation, a short silence would be fitting, so he conformed himself to it, and then went on:--
"The Emperor was never wounded but once, was he, sir?"
The old soldier replied with the calm and sovereign tone of a man who had been there:--
"In the heel.
At Ratisbon.
I never saw him so well dressed as on that day.
He was as neat as a new sou."