Perhaps if some of my lords and baronets in the Shell had known that far away, in a tiny cottage at Boulogne, this same contemptible Frenchman was keeping alive from week to week, with his hard-earned savings, a paralysed father and three motherless little girls, who loved the very ground he trod on, and kissed his likeness every night before they crept to their scantily- covered beds--if they had known that this same poor creature said a prayer for his beloved France every day, and tingled in every vein to hear her insulted even in jest--perhaps they would have understood better why he flared up now and then as he did, and why he clung to his unlovely calling of teaching unfeeling English boys at the rate of L30 a term.

But the Grandcourt boys did not know all this, and therefore they had no pity for poor monsieur.
However, as I have said, monsieur shrugged his shoulders, and accepted the help of the prefects to keep his disorderly charges within bounds.
From one of the prefects he got very hide help.

Felgate had no interest in the order of the house.

It didn't matter to him whether it was monsieur who had to deal with the rioters or Ainger.

All he knew was, he was not going to trouble his head about it.