One recruit has come in." "One!" she echoed.

"A thousand devils! A brave number that! A fine return for the river of wine with which we have washed the stomachs of Grenoble." "Still, it is a beginning," ventured the Seneschal.
"Aye, and, no doubt, an ending," she flashed back at him.

"And what manner of fool may this one be, whose fortunes were so desperate that he could throw them in with ours ?" "He is an Italian--a Piedmontese who has tramped across Savoy and was on his way to Paris to make his fortune, when Fortunio caught him and made it clear to him that his fortune was made for him at Condillac.

He is a lusty, stalwart fellow, speaking no word of French, who was drawn to Fortunio by discovering in him a fellow-countryman." Mockery flashed from the Dowager's beautiful eyes.
"In that you have the reason of his enrolling himself.

He knew no word of French, poor devil, so could not learn how rash his venture was.
Could we find more such men as this one it might be well.