Quentin Kennedy was only master of a certain amount of the Spanish language, which he had rapidly acquired through the medium of his friend the dominie's sonorous Scottish latinity; but fortunately the young Frenchman, who seemed to be highly accomplished, spoke English with remarkable fluency. His uniform, we have said, was in rags; his epaulettes had gone in the recent struggle, the straps of lace for retaining them on the shoulders alone remained. A hole in the breast of his light green jacket showed where the gold cross of the Legion had been rent away by some guerilla's hand, and the state of his scarlet pantaloons made one see the advantage of wearing a kilt for pugnacious casualties, as they were now reduced to mere shreds. He was a slender young man, in appearance only a year or two older than Quentin, though really many years his senior in experience of the world and of life generally. His hair, which he wore in profusion, was dark brown and silky, and his hands, on one of which sparkled a splendid ring, were white and almost ladylike. An incipient moustache shaded his short upper lip; his features were very regular, and he was so decidedly good-looking, that Quentin could not help thinking that if he had a sister like him, she must be charming! They quitted the highway and entered a dense thicket by the wayside, where breathless, hot, and weary, they cast themselves on the cool deep grass that grew under the leafy shade, and the last of the contents of Quentin's canteen, divided between them, proved very acceptable to both. "I perceive that you are a French officer," said Quentin; "may I ask whom I have had the honour of succouring?" "Certainly, mon camarade; I am a sous-lieutenant of my father's regiment, the 24th Chasseurs à Cheval--my name is Eugene de Ribeaupierre." "Any relation of the general who commands in Valencia?" "A very near one," said he, laughing; "I am his son, and monsieur's very obedient servant. Come! let us rest ourselves and talk a little. The tap on the head you gave that Spaniard was most critical and serviceable to me." "True--it only came just in time!" "I hope it may have despatched him outright." "I trust not, now that the end was accomplished." "Now that we have breathing time, you will perhaps excuse my little curiosity, and say how you came to be here, within two or three miles of our sentinels?" "The country is quite open," said Quentin, evasively, with a smile. "Your troops, we have heard, are closing up from Lisbon and elsewhere; but have not as yet been rash enough to enter Spain, the territories of King Joseph." "Rash, monsieur?" "Peste! I suppose your generals have not forgotten the sharp lessons we taught them at Roleia and Vimiera?" Quentin laughed to hear the pleasant tone in which the Frenchman spoke of two very important defeats of the Emperor's troops as "lessons" to the British, but he said plainly enough, "I am here because I was sent on duty." "To whom, monsieur?"