It was at his hall door that the first blow had been struck, it was in rescuing his servant that the first blood had been shed; and though the war had utterly ruined him, he still felt that it would ill become him to begrudge anything that remained to him to those who had suffered so much in the cause.
Peter Berrier, his ostler, stood behind him, teterrima belli causa! This man had at different times been with the army, but had managed to bring himself safe out of the dangers of the wars back to the little inn, and now considered himself an hero.

He looked on himself in the light in which classic readers look on Helen, and felt sure that the whole struggle had been commenced, and was continued on his account.

He was amazed to find how little deference was paid to him, not only by the Vendeans in general, but even by his own town's-people.
"I shall never be made to understand this business of Cholet," said he to his master, "never.

There must have been sad want there of a good head; aye, and of a good heart too, I fear.

Well, well, to turn and run! Vendean soldiers to turn and run before those beggarly blues!" "You'd have been the first, Peter, to show a clean pair of heels yourself, if you'd been there," said the landlord.
"Me show a clean pair of heels! I didn't run away at Saumur, nor yet at Fontenay, nor yet at many another pitched battle I saw.