Why can't they let the blues alone; and the blues let them alone?
I worked my poor fingers to the bone making a white flag before they went to Saumur, and all they did was to leave it in the streets of Nantes.

There's not so much as a bottle of beer, and hardly a bushel of flour left in Echanbroignes.

There's the poor dear lovely Cathelineau dead and gone.

There's M.Henri engaged to the girl of his heart, and he can't so much as stay a day from fighting to get himself married; and there's Jacques just as bad.

If Jacques cares a bit for me, he must take himself off, and me with him, to some place where there's not quite so much fighting, or else I'll be quit of him and go without him.