"Cut in pieces," said the hussar--upon which Pauline cried out, "O my mistress, ma bonne petite dame," went off fairly into hysterics, and filled the house with her screams.
Wild with terror, Mr. Sedley knew not how or where to seek for safety. He rushed from the kitchen back to the sitting-room, and cast an appealing look at Amelia's door, which Mrs. O'Dowd had closed and locked in his face; but he remembered how scornfully the latter had received him, and after pausing and listening for a brief space at the door, he left it, and resolved to go into the street, for the first time that day. So, seizing a candle, he looked about for his gold-laced cap, and found it lying in its usual place, on a console-table, in the anteroom, placed before a mirror at which Jos used to coquet, always giving his side-locks a twirl, and his cap the proper cock over his eye, before he went forth to make appearance in public. Such is the force of habit, that even in the midst of his terror he began mechanically to twiddle with his hair, and arrange the cock of his hat. Then he looked amazed at the pale face in the glass before him, and especially at his mustachios, which had attained a rich growth in the course of near seven weeks, since they had come into the world. They WILL mistake me for a military man, thought he, remembering Isidor's warning as to the massacre with which all the defeated British army was threatened; and staggering back to his bedchamber, he began wildly pulling the bell which summoned his valet.
Isidor answered that summons. Jos had sunk in a chair--he had torn off his neckcloths, and turned down his collars, and was sitting with both his hands lifted to his throat.

"Cut in pieces," said the hussar.
Pauline cried out, "O my poor mistress," went off into hysterics, and filled the house with her screams.
Wild with terror, Mr. Sedley knew not where to seek for safety. He rushed back to the sitting-room, and resolved to go into the street. So, seizing a candle, he put on his gold-laced cap: such is the force of habit, that even in his terror he began mechanically to twiddle with his hair, and arrange his hat. Then he looked amazed at the pale face in the mirror, and his freshly-grown mustachios.
They will mistake me for a military man, thought he, remembering Isidor's warning that the British army would be massacred; and staggering back to his bedchamber, he began wildly pulling at the bell.
Isidor answered. Jos had sunk in a chair - he had torn off his neckcloths, and turned down his collars.
