so differed that while the French one was prostrated by
the agony of a stroke, and then rallied patiently to endure the effects,
the English character opposed a passive resistance to the blow, gave no
sign of grief or pain, and from that very determination suffered a sort
of exhaustion that made the effects of the evil more and more left.
Thus, from the time Philip's somewhat tardy imagination had been made
to realize his home, his father, and his sisters, the home-sickness,
and weariness of his captivity, which had already begun to undermine his
health and spirits, took increasing effect.

He made no complaint--he never expressed a wish--but, in the words of
the prophet, he seemed 'pining away on his feet.' He did not sleep, and
though, to avoid remark, he never failed to appear at meals, he scarcely
tasted food. He never willingly stirred from cowering over the fire, and
was so surly and ill-tempered that only Berenger's unfailing good-humour
could have endured it. Even a wolf-hunt did not stir him. He only said
he hated outlandish beasts, and that it was not like chasing the hare in
Dorset. His calf-love for Madame de Selinville had entirely faded away
in his yearnings after home. She was only one of the tediously recurring
sights of his captivity, and was loathed like all the rest. The
regulation rides with the Chevalier were more detestable than ever,
and by and by they caused such fatigue that Berenger perceived that
his strength must be warning, and became so seriously alarmed that one
evening, when Philip had barely dragged himself to the hall, tasted
nothing but a few drops of wine, and then dropped into an uneasy slumber
in his chair, he could not but turn to the Chevalier an appealing,
indignant countenance, as he said, in a low but quivering voice, 'You
see, sir, how he is altered!'

'Alas! fair nephew, it is but too plain. He is just of the age when such
restraint tells severely upon the health.'

Then Berenger spoke out upon the foul iniquity of the boy's detention.
For himself, he observed, he had nothing to say; he knew the term of his
release, and had not accepted them; but Philip, innocent of all damage
to the Ribaumont interests, the heir of an honourable family, what had
he done to incur the cruel imprisonment that was eating away his life?

'I tell you, sir,' said Berenger, with eyes filled with tears,' that his
liberty is more precious to me than my own. Were he but restored to our
home, full h