“Now, Lorrequer,” resumed the colonel, “let us proceed.  You have, of course, heard that we are ordered abroad; mere newspaper report for the present; nevertheless, it is extremely difficult—­almost impossible, without a sick certificate, to obtain a leave sufficiently long for your purpose.”

And here he smirked, and I blushed, selon les regles..

“A sick certificate,” said I in some surprise.

“The only thing for you,” said Fitzgerald, taking a long pinch of snuff; “and I grieve to say you have a most villainous look of good health about you.”

“I must acknowledge I have seldom felt better.”

“So much the worse—­so much the worse,” said Fitzgerald despondingly.  “Is there no family complaint; no respectable heir-loom of infirmity, you can lay claim to from your kindred?”

“None, that I know of, unless a very active performance on the several occasions of breakfast, dinner, and supper, with a tendency towards port, and an inclination to sleep ten in every twenty-four hours, be a sign of sickness; these symptoms I have known many of the family suffer for years, without the slightest alleviation, though, strange as it may appear, they occasionally had medical advice.”

Fitz. took no notice of my sneer at the faculty, but proceeded to strike my chest several times, with his finger tips.  “Try a short cough now,” said he.  “Ah, that will never do!”

“Do you ever flush.  Before dinner I mean?”

“Occasionally, when I meet with a luncheon.”

“I’m fairly puzzled,” said poor Fitz. throwing himself into a chair; “gout is a very good thing; but, then, you see you are only a sub., and it is clearly against the articles of war, to have it before being a field officer at least.  Apoplexy is the best I can do for you; and, to say the truth, any one who witnesses your performance at mess, may put faith in the likelihood of it.

“Do you think you could get up a fit for the medical board,” said Fitz., gravely.

“Why, if absolutely indispensable,” said I, “and with good instruction —­something this way.  Eh, is it not?”

“Nothing of the kind:  you are quite wrong.”

“Is there not always a little laughing and crying,” said I.

“Oh, no, no; take the cue from the paymaster any evening after mess, and you’ll make no mistake—­very florid about the cheeks; rather a lazy look in one eye, the other closed up entirely; snore a little from time to time, and don’t be too much disposed to talk.”

“And you think I may pass muster in this way.”

“Indeed you may, if old Camie, the inspector, happen to be (what he is not often) in a good humour.  But I confess I’d rather you were really ill, for we’ve passed a great number of counterfeits latterly, and we may be all pulled up ere long.”

“Not the less grateful for your kindness,” said I; “but still, I’d rather matters stood as they do.”