great; but he thoroughly understood his business, its resources, its labyrinths, and its artifices. Long practice had given him imperturbable coolness, a great confidence in himself, and a sort of coarse diplomacy, that answered in place of shrewdness.
To his failings and to his virtues he added incontestable courage.
He laid his hand upon the collar of the most dangerous malefactor as tranquilly as a devotee dips his fingers in a basin of holy water.
He was a man about forty-six years of age, strongly built, with rugged features, a heavy mustache, and rather small, gray eyes, hidden by bushy eyebrows.
His name was Gevrol, but he was universally known as "General."
This sobriquet was pleasing to his vanity, which was not slight, as his subordinates well knew; and, doubtless, he felt that he ought to receive from them the consideration due a person of that exalted rank.
"If you begin to complain already," he added, gruffly, "what will you do by and by?"
In fact, it was too soon to complain.
The little party were then passing up the Rue de Choisy. The people upon the sidewalks were orderly; and the lights of the wine-shops illuminated the street.
For all these places were open. There is no fog nor thaw that is potent enough to dismay lovers of pleasure. And a boisterous crowd of maskers filled each saloon and public ball-room.
Through the open windows came, alternately, the sounds of loud voices and bursts of noisy music. Occasionally a drunken man staggered along the pavement, or a masked figure crept along in the shadow of the houses.
