Holland, and own that it is but a retribution that France should now
find that the injury we do to others is (among nations as well as
individuals) injury to ourselves."

My old Frenchman curled his mustaches with the finger and thumb of his
left hand: this was rather too subtile a distinction for him.

"That may be true enough, Monsieur," said he; "but, /morbleu/! those
/maudits/ Dutchmen deserved what they sustained at our hands. No, Sir,
no: I am not so base as to forget the glory my country acquired, though
I weep for her wounds."

"I do not quite understand you, Sir," said I; "did you not just now
confess that the wars you had witnessed were neither honourable nor
useful? What glory, then, was to be acquired in a war of that
character, even though it was so delightfully animated by cutting the
throats of those /maudits/ Dutchmen?"

"Sir," answered the Frenchman, drawing himself up, "you did /not/
understand me. When we punished Holland, we did rightly. We
/conquered/."

"Whether you conquered or not (for the good folk of Holland are not so
sure of the fact)," answered I, "that war was the most unjust in which
your king was ever engaged; but pray, tell me, Sir, what war it is that
you lament?"

The Frenchman frowned, whistled, put out his under lip, in a sort of
angry embarrassment, and then, spurring his great horse into a curvet,
said,--