"Ugh," grunted the colonel. "And the consoling certainty that he is not hurt." "I wish you would talk about something else," said the colonel. "Read a little more of the book, messiou." Aurelle turned over some pages. "’Other nations,’" he read, "’accuse the English of incivility because they arrive and depart without touching their hats, and without that flow of compliments which are common to the French and Italians. But those who judge thus see things in a false light. The English idea is that politeness does not consist in gestures or words which are often hypocritical and deceptive, but in being courteously disposed to other people. They have their faults like every nation, but, considering everything, I am sure that the more one knows them the more one esteems and likes them.’" "I like old Mr. Perlin," said the colonel. "Do you agree with him, messiou?" "The whole of France now agrees with him, sir," said Aurelle warmly. "You are biased, Aurelle," said Major Parker, "because you are getting quite English yourself. You whistle in your bath, you drink whisky and are beginning to like arguments; if you could only manage to eat tomatoes and underdone cutlets for breakfast you would be perfect." "If you don’t mind, major, I would rather remain French," said Aurelle. "Besides, I never knew that whistling in one’s bath was an English rite." "So much so," said the doctor, "that I have arranged to have carved on my tombstone: ’Here lies a British subject who never whistled in his bath or tried to be an amateur detective.’" *CHAPTER VI* British conversation is like a game of cricket or a boxing match; personal allusions are forbidden like hitting below the belt, and anyone who loses his temper is disqualified. Aurelle met at the Lennox Mess veterinaries and generals, tradesmen and dukes. Excellent whisky was provided and the guests entertained in a friendly way without boring them with too much attention. "It rains a lot in your country," said a major in the Engineers who sat next him one evening. "So it does in England," said Aurelle. "I intend," said the major, "when this damned war is over, to leave the army and go and live in New Zealand." "You have friends there?" "Oh no, but the salmon fishing is very good." "Bring your rod over here while we are resting, major, the pond is full of enormous pike." "I never fish for pike," said the major, "he is not a gentleman. When he sees he is caught he gives up; the salmon fights to the end, even without hope. A thirty-pound fellow will sometimes fight two hours; that’s something like, isn’t it?" "Admirable!" said Aurelle. "And what about trout?" "The trout is a lady," said the major; "you must deceive her; but it is not easy, because she is a judge of flies. And you," he added politely, after a short silence, "what do you do in peace time?" "I write a little," said Aurelle, "and I am trying for a degree."