“Thus I began by swallowing up the honor and services of an officer, who from his valour and merit might have expected the highest military employments, if he had never known his general’s wife. Upwards of three thousand men fell in this action; and therefore of so many good subjects have we robb’d the nation.”

Let anyone, if he can, imagine Mangogul’s surprise at this discourse. He had heard Zermounzaid’s funeral oration, and did not know him by these features. His father Erguebzed had regretted this officer: the newspapers, after lavishing the highest eulogies on his fine retreat, had attributed his defeat and death to the enemy’s superior numbers, which, as they said, were found to be six to one. All Congo had lamented a man, who had done his duty so well. His wife obtain’d a pension: his regiment was given to his eldest son, and an ecclesiastical preferment promised to his younger.

“What horror!” cried Mangogul, but softly. “A husband dishonor’d, the state betray’d, subjects sacrificed, crimes not only concealed, but even rewarded as virtues: and all that for a Toy.”