e world, and of very moderate
ambition, was passing a pleasant time in a quiet spot, content to
be scarcely a spectator even of the drama in rehearsal around him.
Scudamore still abode with M. Jalais, and had won his hearty friendship,
as well as the warm good-will of that important personage Madame Fropot.
Neither of these could believe at first that any Englishman was kind
and gentle, playful in manner, and light-hearted, easily pleased, and
therefore truly pleasing. But as soon as they saw the poor wounded ox
brought home by a ford, and settled happily in the orchard, and received
him as a free gift from their guest, national prejudices dwindled very
fast, and domestic good feeling grew faster. M. Jalais, although a sound
Frenchman, hated the Empire and all that led up to it; and as for
Madame Fropot, her choicest piece of cookery might turn into cinders,
if anybody mentioned conscription in her presence. For she had lost
her only son, the entire hope of her old days, as well as her only
daughter's lover, in that lottery of murder.

Nine out of ten of the people in the village were of the same way of
thinking. A great army cannot be quartered anywhere, even for a week,
without scattering brands of ill-will all around it. The swagger of the
troops, their warlike airs, and loud contempt of the undrilled swain,
the dash of a coin on the counter when they deign to pay for anything,
the insolent wink at every modest girl, and the coarse joke running
along apish mouths--even before dark crime begins, native antipathy is
sown and thrives. And now for nearly four years this coast had never
been free from the arrogant strut, the clanking spur, and the loud
guffaw, which in every age and every clime have been considered the
stamp of valour by plough-boys at the paps of Bellona. So weary was the
neighbourhood of this race, new conscripts always keeping up the pest,
that even the good M. Jalais longed to hear that the armament lay at
the bottom of the Channel. And Scudamore would have been followed by the
good wishes of every house in the village, if he had lifted his hat and
said, "Good-bye, my dear friends; I am breaking my parole."

For this, though encouraged by the popular voice, he was not
sufficiently liberal, but stayed within bounds of space and time more
carefully than if he had been watched. Captain Desportes, who had been
in every way a true friend to him, came to see him now and then, being
now in command of a divi