m. Your excellent
cousin's conduct in this matter, as in all others, has been full of
kindness and dignity."

XV

One the eve of M. de la Marche's departure, and after the abbe's letter
had been sent, a little incident had happened in Varenne which, when I
heard of it in America, caused me considerable surprise and pleasure.
Moreover, it is linked in a remarkable manner with the most important
events of my life, as you will see later.

Although rather seriously wounded in the unfortunate affair of Savannah,
I was actively engaged in Virginia, under General Greene, in collecting
the remains of the army commanded by Gates, whom I considered a much
greater hero than his more fortunate rival, Washington. We had just
learnt of the landing of M. de Ternay's squadron, and the depression
which had fallen on us at this period of reverses and distress was
beginning to vanish before the prospect of re-enforcements. These, as
a fact, were less considerable than we had expected. I was strolling
through the woods with Arthur, a short distance from the camp, and we
were taking advantage of this short respite to have a talk about other
matters than Cornwallis and the infamous Arnold. Long saddened by
the sight of the woes of the American nation, by the fear of seeing
injustice and cupidity triumphing over the cause of the people, we were
seeking relief in a measure of gaiety. When I had an hour's leisure I
used to escape from my stern toils to the oasis of my own thoughts in
the family at Sainte-Severe. At such a time I was wont to tell my kind
friend Arthur some of the comic incidents of my entry into life after
leaving Roche-Mauprat. At one time I would give him a description of
the costume in which I first appeared; at another I would describe
Mademoiselle Leblanc's contempt and loathing for my person, and her
recommendation to her friend Saint-Jean never to approach within arms'
length of me. As I thought of these amusing individuals, the face of
the solemn hidalgo, Marcasse, somehow arose in my memory, and I began
to give a faithful and detailed picture of the dress, and bearing, and
conversation of this enigmatic personage. Not that Marcasse was actually
as comic as he appeared to be in my imagination; but at twenty a man is
only a boy, especially when he is a soldier and has just escaped great
dangers, and so is filled with careless pride at the conquest of his own
life. Arthur would laugh right heartily as he listened