SERGEANT (to Swindon). What orders, sir?

SWINDON (savagely). Orders! What use are orders now? There's no
army. Back to quarters; and be d-- (He turns on his heel and
goes.)

SERGEANT (pugnacious and patriotic, repudiating the idea of
defeat). 'Tention. Now then: cock up your chins, and show 'em you
don't care a damn for 'em. Slope arms! Fours! Wheel! Quick march!

The drum marks time with a tremendous bang; the band strikes up
British Grenadiers; and the sergeant, Brudenell, and the English
troops march off defiantly to their quarters. The townsfolk press
in behind, and follow them up the market, jeering at them; and
the town band, a very primitive affair, brings up the rear,
playing Yankee Doodle. Essie, who comes in with them, runs to
Richard.

ESSIE. Oh, Dick!

RICHARD (good-humoredly, but wilfully). Now, now: come, come! I
don't mind being hanged; but I will not be cried over.

ESSIE. No, I promise. I'll be good. (She tries to restrain her
tears, but cannot.) I--I want to see where the soldiers are going
to. (She goes a little way up the market, pretending to look
after the crowd.)

JUDITH. Promise me you will never tell him.