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Tom Cringle's Log by Michael Scott
page 37 of 773 (04%)
"An English officer!" exclaimed the three ladies, looking at me, a poor,
little, dirty midshipman, in my soiled linen, unbrushed shoes, dirty
trowsers and jacket, with my little square of white cloth on the collar;
and I began to find the eloquent blood mangling in my cheeks, and tingling
in my ears; but their kindly feelings got the better of a gentle
propensity to laugh, and the youngest said--"Sie sind gerade zu rechter
zeit gekommen:" when, finding that her German was Hebrew to me, she tried
the other tack "Vous arrivez a propos, le dejeuner est pret."

However I soon found, that the moment they were assured that I was in
reality an Englishman, they all spoke English, and exceedingly well too.
Our meal was finished, and I was standing at the window looking out on a
small lawn, where evergreens of the most beautiful kinds were checkered
with little round clumps of most luxuriant hollyhocks, and the fruit trees
in the neighborhood were absolutely bending to the earth under their loads
of apples and pears. Presently my friend came up to me; my curiosity
could no longer be restrained.

"Pray, my good sir, what peculiar cause, may I ask, have you for showing
me, an entire stranger to you, all this unexpected kindness? I am fully
aware that I have no claim on you."

"My good boy, you say true; but I have spent the greatest part of my life
in London, although a Hamburgher born, and I consider you, therefore, in
the light of a countryman. Besides, I will not conceal that your gallant
bearing before Davoust riveted my attention, and engaged my good wishes."

"But how come you to have so much influence with the general, I mean?"

"For several reasons," he replied. "For those, amongst others, you heard
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