The late Earl of Clare, in France called the Maréchal Comte de Thomond, had come to Dunkerque in the quality of Inspector-General of the Armies of France, to review the troops in garrison and along that menacing coast. The day after my engagement with Father Hamilton I finished my French lesson early and went to see his lordship and his army on the dunes to the east of the town. Cannon thundered, practising at marks far out in the sea; there was infinite manoeuvring of horse and foot; the noon was noisy with drums and the turf shook below the hoofs of galloping chargers. I fancy it was a holiday; at least, as I recall the thing, Dunkerque was all _en fête_, and a happy and gay populace gathered in the rear of the maréchales flag. Who should be there among the rest, or rather a little apart from the crowd, but Miss Walkinshaw! She had come in a chair; her dainty hand beckoned me to her side almost as soon as I arrived. “Now, that's what I must allow is very considerate,” said she, eyeing my red shoes, which were put on that day from some notion of proper splendour. “Well considered?” I repeated. “Just well considered,” said she. “You know how much it would please me to see you in your red shoes, and so you must put them on.” I was young in these days, and, like the ass I was, I quickly set about disabusing her mind of a misapprehension that injured her nor me. “Indeed, Miss Walkinshaw,” said I, “how could I do that when I did not know you were to be here? You are the last I should have expected to see here.” “What!” she exclaimed, growing very red. “Does Mr. Greig trouble himself so much about the _convenances?_ And why should I not be here if I have the whim? Tell me that, my fastidious compatriot.” Here was an accountable flurry over a thoughtless phrase! “No reason in the world that I know of,” said I gawkily, as red as herself, wondering what it was my foot was in. “That you know of,” she repeated, as confused as ever. “It seems to me, Mr. Greig, that the old gentleman who is tutoring you in the French language would be doing a good turn to throw in a little of the manners of the same. Let me tell you that I am as much surprised as you can be to find myself here, and now that you are so good as to put me in mind of the--of the--of the _convenances_, I will go straight away home. It was not the priest, nor was it Captain Thurot that got your ear, for they are by the way of being gentlemen; it could only have been this Irishman Clancarty--the quality of that country have none of the scrupulosity that distinguishes our own. You can tell his lordship, next time you see him, that Miss Walkinshaw will see day about with him for this.” She ordered her chairmen to take her home, and then--burst into tears! I followed at her side, in a stew at my indiscoverable blundering, my _chapeau-de-bras_ in my hand, and myself like to greet too for sympathy and vexation.