the meaning of "son-of-a-gun "

"Son of a gun" is a disrespectful way to refer to a man. It is roughly equivalent to "jerk", or "idiot".

The original phrase was "son of a bitch" where "bitch" is a derogatory word for a woman (literally meaning a female dog). The phrase follows the tradition common in many cultures of insulting someones mother.

Son of a gun is a weaker (and obviously less offensive) alternative.

I disagree with most of that.

And what does "gets on his ear" mean? I don't know.

"Get on his/her/its ear"

To put or be put in a state of amazement, excitement, or uproar.

I have found 2 possible explanations for "son of a gun". In either case it is a politer way of saying "bastard".

British naval slang: a child of questionable parentage conceived on the gun deck of a ship, the mother a dockyard prostitute, the father her client, a sailor.

American folk idiom alleges this term was derived from military recruitment practice. If a recruit was unable to state his father's name,
officers recorded "A. Gun"

Son-of-a-gun is a more socially acceptable way of saying 'son of a bitch'.

". . . gets on his ear. . . ." was probably intended to mean 'gets thrown out on his ear.", which just means he was thrown out to land on the ground however he happened to fall.

Considering the context, I believe that the writer is trying to say that men are vain and get upset once the compliments stop.

I agree. Maybe the,

and the son-of-a-gun gets on his ear at once,

reflects not so much anger as what one does when embarrassed and hurt - starts lowering the head and gently tugging at the ear.

Agreed. The 'man was displeased' is a simple explanation without considering the nuances and slang in the passage.

Valerie, seventh Duchess du Bellairs, leans back on a solid gold ottoman on eiderdown cushions, surrounded by the wittiest, the bravest, and the handsomest courtiers in the capital.

"Ah, madame," said the Prince Champvilliers, of Palms Royale, corner of Seventy-third Street, "as Montesquiaux says, 'Rien de plus bon tutti frutti'--Youth seems your inheritance. You are to-night the most beautiful, the wittiest in your own salon. I can scarce believe my own senses, when I remember that thirty-one years ago you--"

"Saw it off!" says the Duchess peremptorily.

The Prince bows low, and drawing a jewelled dagger, stabs himself to the heart.

"The displeasure of your grace is worse than death," he says, as he takes his overcoat and hat from a corner of the mantelpiece and leaves the room.

"Voila," says Beebe Francillon, fanning herself languidly. "That is the way with men. Flatter them, and they kiss your hand. Loose but a moment the silken leash that holds them captive through their vanity and self-opinionativeness, and the son-of-a-gun gets on his ear at once. The devil go with him, I say."

"Ah, mon Princesse," sighs the Count Pumpernickel, stooping and whispering with eloquent eyes into her ear. "You are too hard upon us. Balzac says, 'All women are not to themselves what no one else is to another.' Do you not agree with him?"

"Cheese it!" says the Princess. "Philosophy palls upon me. I'll shake you."

"Hosses?" says the Count.

Arm and arm they go out to the salon au Beurre.

Armande de Fleury, the young pianissimo danseuse from the Folies Bergere is about to sing.

She slightly clears her throat and lays a voluptuous cud of chewing gum upon the piano as the first notes of the accompaniment ring through the salon.

As she prepares to sing, the Duchess du Bellairs grasps the arm of her ottoman in a vice-like grip, and she watches with an expression of almost anguished suspense.

She scarcely breathes.

Then, as Armande de Fleury, before uttering a note, reels, wavers, turns white as snow and falls dead upon the floor, the Duchess breathes a sigh of relief.

The Duchess had poisoned her.

Oh man! I gotta track down this piece of crap and read it.

http://www.readbookonline.net/readOnLine/1455/

or save valuable by reading my usual

Keep posting. I don't like to read on the monitor.