and stepped down to visit them--the prisoners having by that time
cleared the pavement--found herself surrounded by a crew humorously
apologetic for their toilettes, profoundly envious of her better luck,
but on excellent terms with one another and the younger ones, at any
rate, who had borne the worst of the discomfort--enjoying the
adventure thoroughly.

"But the life and soul of it all was that M. Raoul," confessed Lady
Bateson's niece.

"By George!" echoed the schoolboy who had danced the "Soldier's Joy"
with Dorothea, "I wouldn't have believed it of a Frenchy."

For some reason Dorothea was not too well pleased.

"But I do not see M. Raoul."

"Oh, he's down by the bridge, helping the relief party. One would guess
him worn out. He ran from lodging to lodging, turning the occupants out
of their beds and routing about for fresh linen. They say he even
carried old Mrs. Kekewich pick-a-back through the snow."

"And tucked her in bed," added the schoolboy. "And then he came back,
wet almost to the waist, and danced."

He looked roguishly at Lady Bateson's niece, and the pair exploded in
laughter.

They ran off as General Rochambeau, jaded and unshaven, approached and
saluted Dorothea.