He took the letter,
turned it over, looking at it curiously, and at last, with a shrug
of the shoulders, passed it back.
"'Tis a long tune on a dot of a fiddle," said he, for indeed
the letter was but a small affair in bulk. "I'd need two
pairs of eyes and telescope! Is it all Heart-o'-my-heart, and
Come-trip-in-dewy-grass--aho? Or is there knave at window to
bear m'sieu' away?"
I took the letter from him. "Listen," said I, "to what the lady says
of you." And then I read him that part of her postscript which had
to do with himself.
He put his head on one side like a great wise magpie, and "H'm--ha!"
said he whimsically, "aho! Gabord the soldier, Gabord, thou hast a
good heart--and the birds fed the beast with plums and froth of
comfits till he died, and on his sugar tombstone they carved the
words, 'Gabord had a good heart.'"
"It was spoken out of a true spirit," said I petulantly, for I could
not bear from a common soldier even a tone of disparagement, though
I saw the exact meaning of his words. So I added, "You shall read
the whole letter, or I will read it to you and you shall judge.
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