The Prince next demanded to know the new cause of quarrel between Colonel Mac-Ivor and Waverley.  There was a pause.  Both gentlemen found the presence of the Baron of Bradwardine (for by this time all three had approached the Chevalier by his command) an insurmountable barrier against entering upon a subject where the name of his daughter must unavoidably be mentioned.  They turned their eyes on the ground, with looks in which shame and embarrassment were mingled with displeasure.  The Prince, who had been educated amongst the discontented and mutinous spirits of the court of St. Germains, where feuds of every kind were the daily subject of solicitude to the dethroned sovereign, had served his apprenticeship, as old Frederick of Prussia would have said, to the trade of royalty.  To promote or restore concord among his followers was indispensable.  Accordingly he took his measures.

‘Monsieur de Beaujeu!’

‘Monseigneur!’ said a very handsome French cavalry officer, who was in attendance.

’Ayez la bonte d’alligner ces montagnards la, ainsi que la cavalerie, s’il vous plait, et de les remettre a la marche.  Vous parlez si bien l’Anglois, cela ne vous donneroit pas beaucoup de peine.’

‘Ah! pas de tout, Monseigneur,’ replied Mons. le Comte de Beaujeu, his head bending down to the neck of his little prancing highly-managed charger.  Accordingly he PIAFFED away, in high spirits and confidence, to the head of Fergus’s regiment, although understanding not a word of Gaelic, and very little English.

’Messieurs les sauvages Ecossois—­dat is—­gentilmans savages, have the goodness d’arranger vous.’

The clan, comprehending the order more from the gesture than the words, and seeing the Prince himself present, hastened to dress their ranks.

‘Ah! ver well! dat is fort bien!’ said the Count de Beaujeu.  ’Gentilmans sauvages—­mais tres bien—­Eh bien!—­Qu’est-ce que vous appellez visage, Monsieur?’ (to a lounging trooper who stood by him).  ’Ah, oui!  Face—­Je vous remercie, Monsieur.—­Gentilshommes, have de goodness to make de face to de right par file, dat is, by files.—­Marsh!—­Mais tres bien—­encore, Messieurs; il faut vous mettre a la marche...Marchez donc, au nom de Dieu, parceque j’ai oublie le mot Anglois—­mais vous etes des braves gens, et me comprenez tres bien.’

The Count next hastened to put the cavalry in motion.  ’Gentilmans cavalry, you must fall in—­Ah! par ma foi, I did not say fall off!  I am a fear de little gross fat gentilman is moche hurt.  Ah, mon Dieu! c’est le Commissaire qui nous a apporte les premieres nouvelles de ce maudit fracas.  Je suis trop fache, Monsieur!’

But poor Macwheeble, who, with a sword stuck across him, and a white cockade as large as a pancake, now figured in the character of a commissary, being overturned in the bustle occasioned by the troopers hastening to get themselves in order in the Prince’s presence, before he could rally his galloway, slunk to the rear amid the unrestrained laughter of the spectators.