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his big whiskers？' she would say。 'And this one；' indicating
myself with her gold eye…glass； 'is； I assure you； quite an
oddity。' The oddity； you may be certain； ground his teeth。 She
had a way of standing in our midst； nodding around； and addressing
us in what she imagined to be French： 'BIENNE； HOMMES！ CA VA
BIENNE？' I took the freedom to reply in the same lingo： BIENNE；
FEMME！ CA VA COUCI…COUCI TOUT D'MEME； LA BOURGEOISE！' And at that；
when we had all laughed with a little more heartiness than was
entirely civil； 'I told you he was quite an oddity！' says she in
triumph。 Needless to say； these passages were before I had
remarked the niece。
The aunt came on the day in question with a following rather more
than usually large； which she manoeuvred to and fro about the
market and lectured to at rather more than usual length； and with
rather less than her accustomed tact。 I kept my eyes down； but
they were ever fixed in the same direction； quite in vain。 The
aunt came and went； and pulled us out； and showed us off； like
caged monkeys； but the niece kept herself on the outskirts of the
crowd and on the opposite side of the courtyard； and departed at
last as she had come； without a sign。 Closely as I had watched
her； I could not say her eyes had ever rested on me for an instant；
and my heart was overwhelmed with bitterness and blackness。 I tore
out her detested image； I felt I was done with her for ever； I
laughed at myself savagely； because I had thought to please； when I
lay down at night sleep forsook me； and I lay； and rolled； and
gloated on her charms； and cursed her insensibility； for half the
night。 How trivial I thought her！ and how trivial her sex！ A man
might be an angel or an Apollo； and a mustard…coloured coat would
wholly blind them to his merits。 I was a prisoner； a slave； a
contemned and despicable being； the butt of her sniggering
countrymen。 I would take the lesson： no proud daughter of my foes
should have the chance to mock at me again； none in the future
should have the chance to think I had looked at her with
admiration。 You cannot imagine any one of a more resolute and
independent spirit； or whose bosom was more wholly mailed with
patriotic arrogance； than I。 Before I dropped asleep； I had
remembered all the infamies of Britain； and debited them in an
overwhelming column to Flora。
The next day； as I sat in my place； I became conscious there was
some one standing near； and behold； it was herself！ I kept my
seat； at first in the confusion of my mind； later on from policy；
and she stood； and leaned a little over me； as in pity。 She was
very still and timid； her voice was low。 Did I suffer in my
captivity？ she asked me。 Had I to complain of any hardship？
'Mademoiselle； I have not learned to complain；' said I。 'I am a
soldier of Napoleon。'
She sighed。 'At least you must regret LA FRANCE；' said she； and
coloured a little as she pronounced the words； which she did with a
pretty strangeness of accent。
'What am I to say？' I replied。 'If you were carried from this
country； for which you seem so wholly suited； where the very rains
and winds seem to become you like ornaments； would you regret； do
you think？ We must surely all regret！ the son to his mother； the
man to his country； these are native feelings。'
'You have a mother？' she asked。
'In heaven； mademoiselle；' I answered。 'She； and my father also；
went by the same road to heaven as so many others of the fair and
brave： they followed their queen upon the scaffold。 So； you see； I
am not so much to be pitied in my prison；' I continued： 'there are
none to wait for me； I am alone in the world。 'Tis a different
case； for instance； with yon poor fellow in the cloth cap。 His bed
is next to mine； and in the night I hear him sobbing to himself。
He has a tender character； full of tender and pretty sentiments；
and in the dark at night； and sometimes by day when he can get me
apart with him； he laments a mother and a sweetheart。 Do you know
what made him take me for a confidant？'
She parted her lips with a look； but did not speak。 The look
burned all through me with a sudden vital heat。
'Because I had once seen； in marching by； the belfry of his
village！' I continued。 'The circumstance is quaint enough。 It
seems to bind up into one the whole bundle of those human instincts
that make life beautiful； and people and places dear … and from
which it would seem I am cut off！'
I rested my chin on my knee and looked before me on the ground。 I
had been talking until then to hold her； but I was now not sorry
she should go： an impression is a thing so delicate to produce and
so easy to overthrow！ Presently she seemed to make an effort。
'I will take this toy；' she said； laid a five…and…sixpenny piece in
my hand； and was gone ere I could thank her。
I retired to a place apart near the ramparts and behind a gun。 The
beauty； the expression of her eyes； the tear that had trembled
there； the compassion in her voice； and a kind of wild elegance
that consecrated the freedom of her movements； all combined to
enslave my imagination and inflame my heart。 What had she said？
Nothing to signify； but her eyes had met mine； and the fire they
had kindled burned inextinguishably in my veins。 I loved her； and
I did not fear to hope。 Twice I had spoken with her； and in both
interviews I had been well inspired； I had engaged her sympathies；
I had found words that she must remember； that would ring in her
ears at night upon her bed。 What mattered if I were half shaved
and my clothes a caricature？ I was still a man； and I had drawn my
image on her memory。 I was still a man； and； as I trembled to
realise； she was still a woman。 Many waters cannot quench love；
and love； which is the law of the world； was on my side。 I closed
my eyes； and she sprang up on the background of the darkness； more
beautiful than in life。 'Ah！' thought I； 'and you too； my dear；
you too must carry away with you a picture； that you are still to
behold again and still to embellish。 In the darkness of night； in
the streets by day； still you are to have my voice and face；
whispering； making love for me； encroaching on your shy heart。 Shy
as your heart is； IT is lodged there … I am lodged there； let the
hours do their office … let time continue to draw me ever in more
lively； ever in more insidious colours。' And then I had a vision
of myself； and burst out laughing。
A likely thing； indeed； that a beggar…man； a private soldier； a
prisoner in a yellow travesty； was to awake the interest of this
fair girl！ I would not despair； but I saw the game must be played
fine and close。 It must be my policy to hold myself before her；
always in a pathetic or pleasing attitude； never to alarm or
startle her； to keep my own secret locked in my bosom