Then the gentleman addressed a sentence to Tristram, and receiving no answer but a shake of the head, cast about for a moment and began again in English.
"You are Englishman ?" "Yes, sir." "Not French deserter ?" "Certainly not." "Then what the devil you do here ?" This was a question that seemed to require a deal of answering.
While Tristram was perpending how best to begin, his interrogator spoke again: "Speak out.

I am M.de Lambertie, Grand Provost of Flanders.
You had better speak me the truth." Our hero began a recital of his woes, condensing as well as he could.
After a minute, M.de Lambertie interrupted him.
"I beg your pardon.

I speak the English ver' well; but _mordieu_ if I can comprehend a word as you speak it! _Tenez donc_--You are a spy ?" "Not a bit." "Well, well," said the Grand Provost, altogether gravelled, "you _must_ be something--come!" He called the sergeant again; who plainly could give no information, and was quite as plainly surprised that any fuss should be made over an affair so trivial.

Indeed, the sergeant ventured to suggest that Tristram should be branded on the off-chance of its turning out for his good.
"But no," said M.de Lambertie, "I am a man of justice and of logic.
It is incredible that a youth who cannot speak a word but English should be a deserter from our Majesty's army.

Moreover, I am a physiognomist, and his face is honest.