Under Two Flags | Page 4

Story was originally written for a military periodical. It has been
fortunate enough to receive much commendation from military men,
and for them it is now specially issued in its present form. For the
general public it may be as well to add that, where translations are
appended to the French phrases, those translations usually follow the
idiomatic and particular meaning attached to these expressions in the
argot of the Army of Algeria, and not the correct or literal one given to
such words or sentences in ordinary grammatical parlance.
OUIDA.

UNDER TWO FLAGS.

CHAPTER I
.
"BEAUTY OF THE BRIGADES."
"I don't say but what he's difficult to please with his Tops," said Mr.
Rake, factotum to the Hon. Bertie Cecil, of the 1st Life Guards, with
that article of hunting toggery suspended in his right hand as he paused,
before going upstairs, to deliver his opinions with characteristic weight
and vivacity to the stud-groom, "he is uncommon particular about 'em;
and if his leathers aint as white as snow he'll never touch 'em, tho' as
soon as the pack come nigh him at Royallieu, the leathers might just as
well never have been cleaned, them hounds jump about him so; old
Champion's at his saddle before you can say Davy Jones. Tops are

trials, I aint denying that, specially when you've jacks, and moccasins,
and moor boots, and Russia-leather crickets, and turf backs, and Hythe
boots, and waterproofs, and all manner of varnish things for dress, that
none of the boys will do right unless you look after 'em yourself. But is
it likely that he should know what a worry a Top's complexion is, and
how hard it is to come right with all the Fast Brown polishing in the
world? How should he guess what a piece of work it is to get 'em all of
a color, and how like they are to come mottled, and how a'most sure
they'll ten to one go off dark just as they're growing yellow, and put
you to shame, let you do what you will to make 'em cut a shine over the
country? How should he know? I don't complain of that; bless you, he
never thinks. It's 'do this, Rake,' 'do that'; and he never remembers 'tisn't
done by magic. But he's a true gentleman, Mr. Cecil; never grudge a
guinea, or a fiver to you; never out of temper either, always have a kind
word for you if you want, thoro'bred every inch of him; see him bring
down a rocketer, or lift his horse over the Broad Water! He's a
gentleman-- not like your snobs that have nothing sound about 'em but
their cash, and swept out their shops before they bought their fine
feathers!--and I'll be d----d if I care what I do for him."
With which peroration to his born enemy the stud-groom, with whom
he waged a perpetual and most lively feud, Rake flourished the tops
that had been under discussion, and triumphant, as he invariably was,
ran up the back stairs of his master's lodgings in Piccadilly, opposite
the Green Park, and with a rap on the panels entered his master's
bedroom.
A Guardsman at home is always, if anything, rather more luxuriously
accommodated than a young Duchess, and Bertie Cecil was never
behind his fellows in anything; besides, he was one of the cracks of the
Household, and women sent him pretty things enough to fill the Palais
Royal. The dressing-table was littered with Bohemian glass and gold-
stoppered bottles, and all the perfumes of Araby represented by
Breidenback and Rimmel. The dressing-case was of silver, with the
name studded on the lid in turquoises; the brushes, bootjack, boot-trees,
whip-stands, were of ivory and tortoiseshell; a couple of tiger skins
were on the hearth with a retriever and blue greyhound in possession;
above the mantel-piece were crossed swords in all the varieties of gilt,
gold, silver, ivory, aluminum, chiseled and embossed hilts; and on the

walls were a few perfect French pictures, with the portraits of a
greyhound drawn by Landseer, of a steeple-chaser by Harry Hall, one
or two of Herring's hunters, and two or three fair women in crayons.
The hangings of the room were silken and rose-colored, and a delicious
confusion prevailed through it pell-mell; box-spurs, hunting-stirrups,
cartridge cases, curb-chains, muzzle-loaders, hunting flasks, and white
gauntlets, being mixed up with Paris novels, pink notes, point- lace ties,
bracelets, and bouquets to be dispatched to various destinations, and
velvet and silk bags for banknotes, cigars, or vesuvians, embroidered
by feminine fingers and as useless as those pretty fingers themselves.
On the softest of sofas, half dressed, and having half an hour before
splashed like a waterdog out of the bath, as big as a small pond, in