"The Governor went for the book he had lately consulted, found the
page, handed it to the rusty officer, and watched him keenly: the
blood rushed all over his face, and his lip trembled; but his eye
dwelt stern, yet sorrowful, on the Governor.
"'I have read your book: now read mine.'
"He drew off his coat, and showed his wrists and arms, blue and
waled.
"'Can you read that, Monsieur?'
"'No.'
"'All the better for you! Spanish fetters, General.'
"He showed a white scar on his shoulder.
"'Can you read that, Sir?'
"'Humph?'
"'This is what I cut out of it,'--and he handed the Governor a
little round stone, as big and almost as regular as a musket-ball.
"'Humph! that could hardly have been fired from a French musket.'
"'Can you read this?'--and he showed him a long cicatrix on his
other arm.
"'Knife, I think?' said the Governor.
"'You are right, Monsieur: Spanish knife!--Can you read
this?'--and opening his bosom, he showed a raw and bloody wound on
his breast.
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