"And Monsieur d'Aumenier?"
"Oh, he seems harmless enough. He is a trained soldier, too, of royalist days before the Empire. He even told me he had been at the school at Brienne when the Emperor was a student there."
"And who is with him?"
"His niece, the Countess Laure d'Aumenier, engaged to that young English officer."
"And what of him?"
"Well enough for an Englishman, I suppose," was the careless answer. "We were paraded yesterday and the young Englishman inspected us, the lady looking on. Actually my gorge rose, as he handled our muskets, criticized our drill. I heard some of the old mustaches of the regiment say they would like to put a bayonet through him, and, to be frank, I should like it myself. I fought against these English in Spain. There's no love lost between us."
"Did he disparage the regiment?"
"Oh, no, quite the contrary. He was more than complimentary, but I hate them. His father is here, too."
"I see. When is the marriage to take place?"
"How do I know? I was surprised when the old Marquis volunteered any information to the likes of me."