"How did you find the Captain?"
"Gallant, elegant, charming! A little too much the slave of discipline; it was his only fault."
"Coxcomb and scamp, coward and bully, liar and thief; those are his true names, and I will prove it to you."
"Come, Monsieur; what have the soldiers done to you?"
"What have they done to me, Madame? Deign to come with me only to the top of the staircase."
Mrs. Simons arrived there just in time to see the soldiers defile past, the drummer at the head, the bandits again installed in their places, the Captain and the King mouth to mouth, giving the last good-bye kiss. The surprise was a little too much. I had not been sufficiently considerate of the good woman, and I was punished for it, because she fainted dead away and nearly broke my arms as I caught her. I carried her to the brook; Mary-Ann rubbed and slapped her hands; I threw a handful of water in her face. But I believe that it was fury which revived her.
"Miserable wretch!" she cried.
"He has plundered you, is it not true? Stole your watches, your money?"
"I do not regret my jewels; he may keep them! But I would give ten thousand francs to get back the handshakes I have given him. I am English, and I do not clasp hands with every one!" This regret of Mrs. Simons drew from me a heavy sigh. She let fall upon me all the weight of her anger. "It is your fault," she said. "Could you not have warned me? It was only necessary to tell me that the brigands were saints in comparison!"
"But, Madame, I advised you that you must put no faith in the soldiers."