#balzac hell
When the commandant gave vent to this military oath (an object it must be said of Republican atheistical remonstrance) it gave warning of a storm; the diverse intonations of the words were degrees of a thermometer by which the brigade could judge of the patience of its commander; the old soldier’s frankness of nature had made this knowledge so easy that the veriest little drummer-boy knew his Hulot by heart, simply by observing the variations of the grimace with which the commander screwed up his cheek and snapped his eyes and vented his oath. On this occasion the tone of smothered rage with which he uttered the words made his two friends silent and circumspect. Even the pits of the small-pox which dented that veteran face seemed deeper, and the skin itself browner than usual. His broad queue, braided at the edges, had fallen upon one of his epaulettes as he replaced his three-cornered hat, and he flung it back with such fury that the ends became untied. However, as he stood stock-still, his hands clenched, his arms crossed tightly over his breast, his mustache bristling, Gerard ventured to ask him presently: “Are we to start at once?”
Honoré de Balzac, Les Chouans
Uniform references for Hulot, chief of a half-brigade (a rank used instead of the aristocratic “colonel” in the years 1793-1803) in 1799, including sabers and pistols used by officers of the line infantry. During the events of Les Chouans, Hulot is 33 years old (despite being referred to as a veteran and “old soldier”).
He wears his long hair in a queue and has a very soldierly mustache, both of which he loses when he later has to go undercover as a Chouan.
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