Though
he had barely time to notice a pair of brilliant eyes (the color of
which escaped him), fair hair and delicate features bronzed by the
sun, he was much struck by the dazzling whiteness of the neck,
relieved by a black cravat carelessly knotted. The fiery attitude of
the young leader proved him to be a soldier of the stamp of those who
bring a certain conventional poesy into battle. His well-gloved hand
waved above his head a sword which gleamed in the sunlight. His whole
person gave an impression both of elegance and strength. An air of
passionate self-devotion, enhanced by the charms of youth and
distinguished manners, made this /emigre/ a graceful image of the
French /noblesse/. He presented a strong contrast to Hulot, who, ten
feet distant from him, was quite as vivid an image of the vigorous
Republic for which the old soldier was fighting; his stern face, his
well-worn blue uniform with its shabby red facings and its blackened
epaulettes hanging back of his shoulders, being visible signs of its
needs and character.
The graceful attitude and expression of the young man were not lost on
the commandant, who exclaimed as he pressed towards him: "Come on,
opera-dancer, come on, and let me crush you!"
The royalist leader, provoked by his momentary disadvantage, advanced
with an angry movement, but at the same moment the men who were about
him rushed forward and flung themselves with fury on the Blues.
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