_O'Carrol._ Troth, lady, one honest potatoe in a garden is worth an hundred beds of your good-for-nothing tulips. Oh! 'tis meat and drink to me to see a friend! and, truly 'tis lucky, in this time of famine, to have one in the house to look at, to keep me from starving. Little did I think, eight years ago, when I came over among fifty thousand brave boys--English, Irish, and else,--to fight under King Edward, who now lies before Calais here, that I should find such a warm soul towards me in a Frenchman's body;--especially when the business, that brought me, was to help to give his countrymen a beating. _Julia._ Thy gratitude, O'Carrol, has well repaid the pains my father took in preserving thee. _O'Carrol._ Gratitude! fait, madam, begging your pardon, 'tis no such thing; 'tis nothing but showing the sense I have of my obligation. There was I, in the year 1339, in the English camp--on the fields of Vianfosse, near Capelle--which never came to an action; excepting a trifling bit of skirmish, in which my good cruel friends left me for dead out of our lines; when a kind enemy--your father--(a blessing on his friendly heart for it!) picked me up, and set the breath agoing again, that was almost thumped out of my body. He saved my life; it is but a poor commodity;--but, as long as it lasts, by my soul! he and his family shall have the wear and tear of it. _Julia._ Thou hast been a trusty follower, O'Carrol; nay, more a friend than follower; thou art entwined in all the interests of our house, and art as attached to me as to my father. _O'Carrol._ Ay, troth, Lady Julia, and a good deal more; more shame to me for it; because I am indebted for all to the Governor. I don't know how it may be with wiser nations, but if regard is to go to a whole family, there's a something about the female part of it that an Irishman can't help giving the preference to, for the soul of him. _Julia._ But, tell me, who is with my father? _O'Carrol._ Indeed that I will not--for a reason. _Julia._ And what may the reason be? _O'Carrol._ Because, long before he arrived, you bid me never mention his name. It may be, perhaps, the noble gentleman who has just succoured the town.--Well, if I must not say who is with my master, I may say who my master is with.--It is the Count Ribaumont. _Julia._ Why should I tremble at that name? Why should my tongue be now constrained to speak the language of my heart? O father! father! _O'Carrol._ Och--ho! _Julia._ Why dost thou sigh, O'Carrol? _O'Carrol._ Truly, madam, I was thinking of a piece of a rich old uncle I had in Ireland; who sent me to the French wars, to tear me away from a dear little creature I loved better than my eyes. _Julia._ And wast thou ever in love, O'Carrol? _O'Carrol._ That I was, faith, up to my chin. I never think upon it but it remembers me of the song that was wont to be played by honest Clamoran, poor fellow, our minstrel, in the north.