It was between two of the four, about whom they inside had been conversing--Clarisse and Eustace. She was still upon his arm, as he had conducted her off the dancing ground; she now rather conducting him towards that quiet spot, whither she had no idea of any one having preceded them. "It seems so strange, Captain Trevor, you fighting for the Parliament?" "Why strange, Mademoiselle?" "Because of your father, and all your family, being on the King's side; your brave cousin too. Besides, you're so different from these plebeian Puritans and Roundheads; unlike them in every way." "Not every way, I hope, and would be sorry to think I was. Rather would I resemble them in their ways of truth and right--their aspirations for liberty, and the self-sacrificing courage they have shown to achieve it." "But the Cavaliers show courage too; as much, and more than they." "Neither more, nor as much. Pardon me, Mademoiselle, for contradicting you. Hitherto they've been better horsed, by robbing the poor farmers, emptying every stable they came across. That's given them the advantage of us. But there'll be a turn to it soon, and we shall pay the score back to Rupert and his plunderers." "Oh, Captain Trevor! To speak so of the gallant Prince--calling him a plunderer. For shame!" "He's all that, and more--a ruthless murderer. Nor is the King himself much less, after his doings of the other day with the wretched captives of Cirencester." "You naughty, naughty rebel!" she rejoined, with a laugh telling how little the misfortunes of the Cirencestrians affected her, adding--"And I feel inclined to call you renegade as well." "Call me that, and welcome. 'Tis no disgrace for a man to turn coat when he discovers he has been wearing it wrong side out; not put on so by himself but by others. For what I've done, Mademoiselle Lalande, I feel neither shame nor repentance; instead, glory in it." "What a grand, noble fellow!" thought Sir Richard, as also the other listener inside the pavilion; the latter with added reflection how worthy he was to mate with her sister. It was less his reasoning, than the defiance flung to her in tone so independent, that caused the Creole to shrink back from what she had said. Fearing it might have given offence, she hastened to heal the wound by the salve of self-humiliation. "O sir! I but spoke jestingly; and please don't think I meant reproaching you. As you know, we women have but little understanding of things political; of English politics I less than any, from being a stranger to the country--almost a foreigner. In truth, I know not clearly which party may be in the right. Nor do I care either--that is, enough to quarrel with my friends, and certainly not with yourself, Captain Trevor. So please pardon what I've said--forget it. You will, won't you?"