"Ask them how much they could make up among themselves towards the purchase of a substitute. Some may be willing to help." Denham obeyed, and a discussion took place in raised voices. The two Englishmen waited gravely, Mrs. Baron watching affairs from the coach, while Roy stood close by, scanning the conscript with interested gaze. Marie Paulet sat upon the cold ground, weeping bitterly. "About fifteen livres seems to be the outside, sir. They are poor here. It is a marvel how the woman has managed to save so much. But I am ready to give fifteen livres." Colonel Baron's eyebrows stirred. "More than you can afford, I should have imagined, but you know your own business best. Well, tell them that if they can find a substitute for one hundred livres, you will give that, and I will give another fifteen. Of course, we can't wait now to see the end of the affair. Tell them we promise it on the word of an English gentleman--that's understood everywhere. Give our Verdun address to the Curé yonder--he looks an honest man. For my part, I doubt if a substitute can be procured, the drain on the country has been so severe of late. But they may succeed. Anyhow, it will soften matters a little to the poor woman. One rather grudges letting the money go into French pockets, but I defy anyone with proper sensibilities to stand out against that poor creature's misery." Denham listened with his air of half-military, half-courtly, attention to this somewhat prolonged exposition of the Colonel's views. Then he explained what "Monsieur le Colonel Anglais" had said, failing to make clear his own share in the matter, though from no lack of power to express himself. The scene that followed was eminently French in its _abandon_ of joy. One of the young men present, who was eligible but who had not been drawn--had not _tombé_, as the saying was--came forward, and offered for the sum of one hundred livres to go as the substitute for Jean Paulet. This settled matters; and without hesitation Colonel Baron produced notes for the amount he had named, Denham adding his own donation with a rapid movement, which drew no attention. Whereupon enthusiasm rose to its height. The people of the town, with whom Marie and her son were plainly favourites, shouted their approval; while Marie crept close to Colonel Baron, knelt at his feet, sobbed out her wordless rapture, and even kissed his hands, to the Colonel's discomfiture. "I say, Den, I'm going back to the carriage. Say whatever you choose to them. It's all right, but I vow this sort of thing doesn't quite suit a Britisher. And it strikes me you haven't made 'em understand that you're doing as much as I am. Tell 'em that, and talk as much as you think right, and then come along."