"I thought we were in for some sport," said he. "I never dreamed that it was you."
I found this tone of disappointment somewhat irritating. Instead of being glad at having met a friend, he was sorry at having missed an enemy.
"I should have been happy to join in your sport, my dear Bart," said I. "But I really cannot turn my sword upon a man who saved my life."
"Tut, never mind about that."
"No, it is impossible. I should never forgive myself."
"You make too much of a trifle."
"My mother's one desire is to embrace you. If ever you should be in Gascony"
"Lord Wellington is coming there with 60,000 men."
"Then one of them will have a chance of surviving," said I, laughing. "In the meantime, put your sword in your sheath!"
Our horses were standing head to tail, and the Bart put out his hand and patted me on the thigh.
"You're a good chap, Gerard," said he. "I only wish you had been born on the right side of the Channel."
"I was," said I.
"Poor devil!" he cried, with such an earnestness
