As they had danced in the great days in the valley in the spring, now they were dancing when autumn was merging into winter, and they sang their songs of the South, some of which had come from old Brittany through Nova Scotia to Louisiana.
Harry liked the French blood, and he had learned to like greatly these men who were so much underestimated in the beginning.

He and his comrades watched them as they whirled in the dance, clasped in one another's arms, their dark faces glowing, white teeth flashing and black eyes sparkling.

He saw that they were carried away by the music and the dance, and as they floated over the turf they were dreaming of their far and sunny land and the girls they had left behind them.

He had been reared in a stern and more northern school, but he had learned long since that a love of innocent pleasure was no sign of effeminacy or corruption.
"Good to look on, isn't it, Harry ?" said St.Clair.
"Yes, and good to hear, too." "Come with me into this little dip, and I'll show you another sight that's good to see." There was a low ridge on their right, crested with tall trees and dropping down abruptly on the other side.

A little distance on rose another low ridge, but between the two was a snug and grassy bowl, and within the bowl, sitting on the dry grass, with a chessboard between them, were Colonel Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St.Hilaire.