“You have probably learnt how to deal with your enemies at sea,” he said thoughtfully at length. “Have you ever noticed how an English ship comes into a foreign harbour and takes her berth at her moorings? There is nothing more characteristic of the nation. And one captain is like another. No doubt you have seen Clubbe do it a hundred times. He comes in, all sail set, and steers straight for the berth he has chosen. And there are always half a dozen men in half a dozen small boats who go out to meet him. They stand up and wave their arms, and point this way and that. They ask a hundred questions, and with their hands round their faces, shout their advice. And in answer to one and the other the Captain looks over the side and says, 'You be damned.' That will be the way to deal with some of your friends and all your enemies alike, Barebone, if you mean to get on in France. You will have to look over the side at the people in small boats who are shouting and say, 'You be damned.'” They were at the gate of a house now, set down in a clearing amid the pine-trees. “This is my cousin's house,” said Dormer Colville. “It is to be your home for the present. And you need not scruple, as she will tell you, to consider it so. It is not a time to think of obligations, you understand, or to consider that you are running into any one's debt. You may remember that afterward, perhaps, but that is as may be. For the present there is no question of obligations. We are all in the same boat--all playing the same game.” And he laughed below his breath as he closed the gate with caution; for it was late and the house seemed to hold none but sleepers. “As for my cousin herself,” he continued, as they went toward the door, “you will find her easy to get on with-a clever woman, and a good-looking one. Du reste--it is not in that direction that your difficulties will lie. You will find it easy enough to get on with the women of the party, I fancy--from what I have observed.” And again he seemed to be amused. CHAPTER XVI. THE GAMBLERS In a sense, politics must always represent the game that is most attractive to the careful gambler. For one may play at it without having anything to lose. It is one of the few games within the reach of the adventurous, where no stake need be cast upon the table. The gambler who takes up a political career plays to win or not to win. He may jump up from the gutter and shout that he is the man of the moment, without offering any proof of his assertion beyond the loudness of a strident voice. And if no one listens to him he loses nothing but his breath. And in France the man who shouts loudest is almost certain to have the largest following. In England the same does not yet hold good, but the day seems to be approaching when it will.