LaRole. Camp? vat is de camp? Oho, le champ de bataille; I shall tell you, mademoiselle, I did fight at the bataille de Vittoria, com un diable, like littel devil. I did kill beaucoup d'Anglais. Mai my maître, le capitain, he did give me a dam tump on my head wis his rapier, and did knock me down from on top of my horse, and make a me von prisonier.
Maid. Poor fellow! And so, mounsure, you were made prisoner?
LaRole. Oui, ven I could not run avay, begar I surrender like von brave homme, and now I am jentiman to capitain Pendragoon; I do brus his coat, poudre his hair, and pull his corset tight, and ven he was order to come to Amérique, and fight wis de Yankee Doodel, begar me come too. I arrive ici, I am here, to make a littel de love to you.
Maid. Well now, once for all, I tell you not to be following me; I don't like Frenchmen—I can't parlyvoo.
LaRole. You no like de Frenchiman? O quell barbare! vy you ave von abominable goût, mademoiselle, von shockin taste. I shall tell you, mademoiselle, en my contree, en France, de ladies are ver fond of me. O beaucoup, I am so charmant—so aimable, and so jentee, I have three five sweetheart, ami de cœur, mai for all dat I do love you ver mush, par example.
Maid. Let me go! [Bell rings.] There, your master calls you.
[Exit.
LaRole. Dam de littel bell, I vill not come; mon maître he always interrupt me ven I make de love to the pretti ladi, he be jealous, begar I vill not come.
[Exit opposite side.
Enter Captain Pendragon, dressed in the British uniform, but in the extreme of fashion—throws himself into a chair.