I fail. You are English, Sir?"

Shelton nodded.

"Forgive my asking; your voice lacks something I've nearly
always noticed in the English a kind of--'comment cela
s'appelle'--cocksureness, coming from your nation's greatest quality."

"And what is that?" asked Shelton with a smile.

"Complacency," replied the youthful foreigner.

"Complacency!" repeated Shelton; "do you call that a great quality?"

"I should rather say, monsieur, a great defect in what is always a great
people. You are certainly the most highly-civilised nation on the earth;
you suffer a little from the fact. If I were an English preacher my
desire would be to prick the heart of your complacency."

Shelton, leaning back, considered this impertinent suggestion.

"Hum!" he said at last, "you'd be unpopular; I don't know that we're any
cockier than other nations."

The young foreigner made a sign as though confirming this opinion.

"In effect," said he, "it is a sufficiently widespread disease. Look at
these people here"--and with a rapid glance he pointed to the inmates
of the carnage,--"very average persons! What have they done to warrant
their making a virtuous nose at those who do not walk as they do? That