Dizzy Land

Beaufort gritted his teeth, noting the mangling of his language and resisted the urge to say something frightfully rude, as he knew how to keep face, if nothing else. "Sir, I do wonder exactly why you think you know more of my country than I do. You don't know what it means in your heart to be French, and you never will. Do not mock me." He might not have been, but it certainly felt to Beaufort like he was being mocked. Perhaps for other reasons than that, but they were best left alone.