The troops, sweating under a scorching sun, choked by their high, tight collars, sat their chargers like statues, gazing rigidly before them, while the cortege passed slowly along the ranks. They knew the Duke's hook nose and low cocked hat right enough; they knew Lord Uxbridge, in his hussar dress; and Sir George Wood, who commanded the Artillery; they even knew the Duke of Brunswick, and guessed that the stout old gentleman with the white whiskers was Marshal Blucher; but who the rest of the fine gentlemen might be, in their plumed hats and fancy foreign uniforms. they neither knew nor cared. One or two old soldiers recognised General Alava, but Generals Gneisenau, Kleist, and Ziethen, Pozzo di Bongo, and Baron Vincent, Counts van Reede, and d'Aglie, exclaiming in outlandish tongues among themselves, did not concernn them. They thought the Marshal Prince von Blucher a rum touch if ever there was one, opening his bone-box to splutter out his Achs, and his Mein Gotts, and his Fery Goots!
But the Marshal Prince was enjoying himself. He had come over from Tirlemont with his chief-of-staff, and several of his generals, for this occasion, and his friend and colleague had given them a very good luncheon, sent on their horses to Ninove and driven them out from Brussels in comfortable carriages. He was on the best of terms with his colleague, and although he spoke very little English, and very bad French, they had a great deal of conversation together, and found themselves perfectly in accord. A hussar himself, he was loud in praise of the hussars drawn up before him; as for the Heavy Dragoons, quell physiques, quels beaux chevaux! Indeed, the horses impressed him more than anything. When he came to Mercer's troop, there seemed to be no getting him past it; each subdivision was inspected, every horse exclaimed at. "Mein Gott, dere is not von vich is not goot for Veldt-Marshal!" he declared.
The Duke acknowledged it. It was not to be expected that he would share in the Marshal's rapture, but he asked Sir George Wood whose troop it was, and seemed to approve of it. It did not occur to him to speak to Captain Mercer, following him as he made the inspection. He paid no heed to him, but Mercer was not surprised: it was just like the Duke; he had never a ood word for the unfortunate Artillery. The inspection took a long time; some of the spectators grew rather bored with looking at the motionless ranks, and several ladies complained of the heat. Sir Peregrine Taverner, whose Harriet was in low spirits and had refused to attend the review, edged his way to Barbara's phaeton; and Lady Worth, her head :thing a little from the glare of the sun, closed her eyes, with a request to her lord to inform her if anything should begin to happen.
The Duke and the Marshall at last returned to the saluting point; Lord Uxbridge marched the troops past; Judith woke up; and all the wilting ladies revived at the near prospect of being able to move out of the sun and partake of refreshments.
The military cortege began to move about among the civilians before riding back to Ninove. Various persons were presented to the Marshal Prince; and Colonel Audley was able to seize the opportunity of exchanging a few words with Lady Barbara.
"How do you contrive to look so cool?" he asked ruefully.
"I can't think. I'm bored to tears, Charles!"
"I know. Devilish tedious, isn't it?"
"I only came to see George, and I couldn't even pick him out in that dreadful scarlet mass!" she said pettishly.
"He looked very handsome, I assure you."
She yawned. "I'll swear he was cursing the heat! I wish you will drive home with me. We will dine outside the town in one of those charmingly vulgar places in the suburbs, and drink our wine at a table by the roadside. just as the burghers do. It will be so amusing!"
"Oh, don't!" he begged. "It sounds delightful, and I can't do it!"
"Why can't you?" she demanded, lifting her eyebrows. "Is it beneath the dignity of a staff officer?"
"You know very well it's not beneath my dignity. But I'm dining at Ninove."
"That stupid cavalry party of Uxbridge's! Oh, nonsense! it can't signify. No one will give a fig for your absence: you won't even be missed, I daresay."
He laughed, but shook his head. "My darling, I daren't!"
She hunched a shoulder. "I am tired of your duty, Charles. It is so tedious!"
"It is indeed."
"I see nothing of you. George and Harry can get leave when they want it; why should not you?"
"George and Harry are not on the staff," he replied. "I'd get leave if I could, but it's impossible."
"Well!" She closed her parasol with a snap, and laid it on the seat beside her. "If it is impossible for you I must find someone else to go with me. Ah, the very man! Sir Peregrine, come here!"
A little startled, the Colonel turned to see Peregrine hurriedly obeying the summons. A bewitching smile was bestowed upon him. "Sir Peregrine, I want to dine in the suburbs, and Charles won't take me! Will you go with me?"
"Oh, by Jove, Lady Bab, I should think I will go anywhere!" replied Peregrine.
"Good. No dressing up, mind! I intend to go just as I am. You may call for me in the Rue Ducale: is it agreed?"
"Lord, yes, a thousand times! It will be capital fun!" A doubt struck him; he looked at the Colonel, and added: "That is if you don't mind, Audley, do you?"
"My dear Perry, why should I mind? Go by all .means: I wish I might join you."
"Oh, devilish good of you! At about six, then, Lady Bab: I'll be there!"
He raised his hat to her and walked away; the Colonel said: "What's your game, Bab?"
"I don't understand you. I had thought the fact of Sir Peregrine's being a connection of yours must have made him unexceptionable. Besides, I like him: have you any objection?"
" I'm not jealous of him, if that is what you mean, but I've a strong notion that it would be better for him not be liked by you."
"Ah, perhaps you are right!" she said. Her voice was saintly, but two demons danced in her eyes. "Lavisse comes to Brussels this evening: I will engage him instead."
"You're a devil in attack, Bab," he said appreciatively. "That's a pistol held to my head, and, being a prudent man, I capitulate."
"Oh, Charles! Craven! And you a soldier!"
"True: but a good soldier knows when to retreat!"
"Shall you come about again?"
"Yes, but I shall be more careful of my ground. Today I rashly left my flank exposed."
She smiled. "And I rolled it up! Well, I will be good! Sir Peregrine shall take me, because it would be stupid to cry off now, but I will be very sisterly, I promise you."
He held up his hand to her. "Defeat without dishonour! Thank you!"
She leaned down from her high perch, putting her hand in his. His face was upturned; she said, with her gurgle of laughter: "Don't smile at me, Charles! If you do I must kiss you just there!" She drew her hand away, and laid a finger between his brows.
"Do!"
"No, this place is confoundedly public: I should put you to shame. By the by, Charles, that chit whose name I never can remember - the heiress whom your sister-in-law meant you to marry - you know whom I mean?"
"I do, but it's nonsense that Judith intended her for me."
"Oh no, I'm sure it's not! But it doesn't signify, only that I thought you would like to know that I rather fancy George to be a little epris in that direction."
"I hope he will not give her a heartache!"
"I expect he will, however. The odd thing is that she is not at all the sort of young woman he had been in the habit of deceiving." She added thoughtfully: "One comfort is that he is more likely to make a fool of her than she of him."