Now, though Hippolyte Hector Could hardly expect her To feel much regard for her sister's "protector," When she'd seen him so shamefully leave and neglect her; Still, he very well knew In this world there are few But are ready much Christian forgiveness to shew, For other folk's wrongs--if well paid so to do-- And he'd seen to what acts "_Res angustæ_" compel _beaux_ And _belles_, whose affairs have once got out at elbows, With the magic effect of a handful of crowns Upon people whose pockets boast nothing but "browns;" A few _francs_ well applied He'd no doubt would decide Miss Agnes des Moulins to jump up and ride As far as head-quarters, next day, by his side; For the distance was nothing, to speak by comparison, To the town where the Mousquetaires now lay in garrison; Then he thought, by the aid Of a veil, and gown made Like those worn by the lady his friend had betray'd, They might dress up Miss Agnes so like to the Shade, Which he fancied he saw, of that poor injured maid, Come each night, with her pale face, his guilt to upbraid; That if once introduced to his room, thus array'd, And then unmask'd as soon as she'd long enough stay'd, 'Twould be no very difficult task to persuade Him the whole was a scurvy trick, cleverly play'd, Out of spite and revenge, by a mischievous jade! With respect to the scheme--though I do not call that a gem-- Still I've known soldiers adopt a worse stratagem, And that, too, among the decided approvers Of General Sir David Dundas's "Manœuvres." There's a proverb, however, I've always thought clever, Which my Grandmother never was tired of repeating, "The proof of the Pudding is found in the eating!" We shall see, in the sequel, how Hector Achille Had mix'd up the suet and plums for _his_ meal. The night had set in;--'twas a dark and a gloomy one;-- Off went St. Foix to his chamber; a roomy one, Five stories high, The first floor from the sky, And lofty enough to afford great facility For playing a game, with the youthful nobility Of "crack _corps_" a deal in Request, when they're feeling, In dull country quarters, _ennui_ on them stealing; A wet wafer's applied To a sixpence's side, Then it's spun with the thumb up to stick on the ceiling; Intellectual amusement, which custom allows old troops,-- I've seen it here practised at home by our Household troops. He'd a table, and bed, And three chairs; and all's said.-- A bachelor's barrack, where'er you discern it, you're Sure to find not overburthen'd with furniture. François Xavier Auguste lock'd and bolted his door With just the same caution he'd practised before; Little he knew That the Count Cordon Bleu, With Hector Achille, and the Sieur de la Roue, Had been up there before him, and drawn ev'ry screw!