Ben had his eyes upon the engaging countenance of the French lad across the table.
“That one, at least,” said he, “has none of those things.”
The girl nodded her agreement of this.
“He is very well, indeed,” she said. “I have met him, and my father has told me his family history.”
Just then the young Frenchman burst out in his imperfect English:
“But such a wonderful country—so beautiful a land. It is well to fight that such a country should be free. I am lost in admiration of it.”
“But, sir,” laughingly protested one of the ladies, “you have been here a very short time, and you can have seen but little of it.”
“Ah, madame, there you are mistaken,” cried the lad, delightedly. “I have seen nine hundred miles of it, my friends and I. Nine hundred miles did we ride from Georgetown in South Carolina, where my ship reached port. Nine hundred miles through a glorious country; and the sight of it day after day, madame, made me more determined than ever to join your army and help fight for it.”
“You say you know his name and history,” said Ben Cooper to the girl at his side. “Who and what is he?”
“He was born in Cavanac, Auvergne, France,” said the young lady with affected solemnity, “and he is now just nineteen years of age. His name is——” she paused and affected great concern. “Do you care to hear his full name?” she asked.