Charvill does not believe the general will accept them. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. "I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. Only I am not an acquaintance at all. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter.
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