"Were you at Waterloo? You are very young!"
"I beg your pardon, colonel, that was my only campaign."
"It counts as two," said the colonel.
The young Corsican bit his lips.
"Papa," said Miss Lydia in English, "do ask him if the Corsicans are
very fond of their Buonaparte."
Before the colonel could translate her question into French, the young
man answered in fairly good English, though with a marked accent:
"You know, mademoiselle, that no man is ever a prophet in his own
country. We, who are Napoleon's fellow-countrymen, are perhaps less
attached to him than the French. As for myself, though my family was
formerly at enmity with his, I both love and admire him."
"You speak English!" exclaimed the colonel.
"Very ill, as you may perceive!"
Miss Lydia, though somewhat shocked by the young man's easy tone, could
not help laughing at the idea of a personal enmity between a corporal
and an emperor. She took this as a foretaste of Corsican peculiarities,
and made up her mind to note it down in her journal.
"Perhaps you were a prisoner in England?" asked the colonel.
"No, colonel, I learned English in France, when I was very young, from a
prisoner of your nation.
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