"Very well," replied Aurelle, "two thousand words will be a sufficient vocabulary to begin with."
"All right," said Juan Garretos; "now listen to me. All ze words which in ze English end with 'tion' are ze same in ze Poortooguez wiz ze ending 'çaoung.' Revolution—revoluçaoung; constitution—constituçaoung; inquisition—inquisiçaoung. Now zere are in ze English two souzand words ending in 'tion.' Your Excellency owes me fifty francs. Faz favor d'fallar Portuguez."
A fortnight later Colonel Parker and Aurelle stepped on to the platform at B——, where they were met by Major Baraquin, the officer commanding the garrison, and Captain Pereira, the Portuguese liaison officer.
Major Baraquin was a very old soldier. He had seen service—in the 1870 campaign. All strangers, Allies included, inspired him with a distrust which even his respect for his superiors failed to remove. When the French War Office
ordered him to place his barracks at the disposal of a British colonel, discipline required him to obey, but hostile memories inspired him with savage resistance.
"After all, sir," said Aurelle to Parker, "his grandfather was at Waterloo."
"Are you quite sure," asked the colonel, "that he was not there himself?"
Above all things, Major Baraquin would never admit that the armies of other nations might have different habits from his own. That the British soldier should eat jam and drink tea filled him with generous indignation.
"The colonel," Aurelle translated, "requests me to ask you ..."