BURGOYNE.
My good sir, without a Conquest you cannot have an aristocracy. Come and settle the matter at my quarters.
ANDERSON.
At your service, sir. (To Richard) See Judith home for me, will you, my boy? (He hands her over to him.) Now General. (He goes busily up the market place towards the Town Hall, Leaving Judith and Richard together. Burgoyne follows him a step or two; then checks himself and turns to Richard.)
BURGOYNE.
Oh, by the way, Mr. Dudgeon, I shall be glad to see you at lunch at half-past one. (He pauses a moment, and adds, with politely veiled slyness) Bring Mrs. Anderson, if she will be so good. (To Swindon, who is fuming) Take it quietly, Major Swindon: your friend the British soldier can stand up to anything except the British War Office. (He follows Anderson.)
THE SERGEANT.
(to Swindon). What orders, sir?
SWINDON.
(savagely). Orders! What use are orders now? There’s no army. Back to quarters; and be d— (He turns on his heel and goes.)
THE SERGEANT.
(pugnacious and patriotic, repudiating the idea of defeat). ’Tention. Now then: cock up your chins, and show ’em you don’t care a damn for ’em. Slope arms! Fours! Wheel! Quick march!
The drum marks time with a tremendous bang; the band strikes up British Grenadiers; and the sergeant, Brudenell, and the English troops march off defiantly to their quarters. The townsfolk press in behind, and follow them up the market, jeering at them; and the town band, a very primitive affair, brings up the rear, playing Yankee Doodle. Essie, who comes in with them, runs to Richard.
ESSIE.
Oh, Dick!
RICHARD.
(good-humoredly, but wilfully). Now, now: come, come! I don’t mind being hanged; but I will not be cried over.
ESSIE.
No, I promise. I’ll be good. (She tries to restrain her tears, but cannot.) I—I want to see where the soldiers are going to. (She goes a little way up the market, pretending to look after the crowd.)