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But when he had passed out of sight
Cigarette shook herself free from the
dancers with petulant impatience. She
was not to be allured by flattery or
drawn by entreaty back among them.
She set her delicate pearly teeth tight
and vowed with a reckless, contemptu
ous, impetuous oath that she was tired,
that she was sick of them, that she was
no strolling player to caper for them
with a tambourine, and with that dec
laration made her way out alone into
the little open court under the stars.
"Unsexed, unsexed! What did he
mean?" she thought, while for the first
time, with a vague sense of his mean
ing, tears welled hot and bitter into
her sunny eye's, while the pained color
burned in her face. Those tears were
the first that she had ever known, and
they were cruel ones, though they last
ed but a little time. There was too
much fire in the young Bohemian of
the army not to scorch them as they
rose. She stamped her foot on the
stones passionately, and her teeth were
set like a little terrier's as she mutter
"TJnsexed, unsexed! Bah! Aristo
crat! If you think so, you shall find
your thought right. You shall find
Cigarette can hate as men hate and
take her revenge as soldiers take
WAS just sunset. Camped on
one of the stretches above the
Mustapha road was a circle of
Arab tents. The circle was ir
regularly kept, and the Krumas were
scattered at will. Here a low one of
canvas, there one of goatskin here a
white towering canopy of teleze, there
a low striped little nest of shelter, and,
loftier than all, the stately tent of the
sheik, with his standard stuck into the
earth in front of it, with its heavy folds
hanging listlessly in the sultry, breath
less air. In the central tent, tall and
crimson striped, with its opening free
to the night, sat the khalifa, the head
of the tribe, with a circle of Arabs
about him. He was thrown on his
cushions, rich enough for a seraglio,
while the rest squatted on the morocco
carpet that covered the bare ground,
and that was strewn with round brass
Moorish trays and little cups emptied
of their coffee. Near him was a guest
whom the khalifa delighted to honor,
only a corporal of chasseurs and once
a foe, yet one with whom the Arab
found the brotherhood of brave men
and on whom he lavished in all he
could the hospitalities and honors of
The story of their friendship ran
The tribe was now allied with France
or at least had accepted French sov
ereignty and pledged itself to neutral
ity in the hostilities still life, but a few
years before far in the interior and
leagued with the Kabyles it had been
one of the fiercest and most dangerous
among the enemies of France. At that
time the khalifa and the chasseur met
in many a skirmish, hot, desperate
struggles, when the desert sand and
the smoke of musketry circled in clouds
above the 'ose locked struggle, and
the leopard of France and the lion of
Sahara wrestled in a death grip.
In these, through four or five sea
sons of warfare, the sheik and the
chasseur had encountered each other,
till each had grown to look for t*e
other's face as soon as the standard
of the Bedouins flashed in the sun
shine opposite the guidons of the im
perial forces till each had watched
and noted the other's unmatched
prowess and borne away the wounds
of the other's home strokes with the
admiration of a bold soldier for a bold
rival's dauntlessness and skill.
At last it came to pass that the tribes
were sorely a pressed by the French
troops and had to flee southward to
the desert and, incumbered by their
flocks and their women, were hardly
driven and greatly decimated. Now,
among those women was one whom
the sheik held above all earthly thingo
except his honor in war, a beautiful,
antelope eyed creature, lithe and grace
ful as a palm and the daughter of a
pure Arab race on whom he could not
endure for any other sight than his
own to look and whom he guarded
in his tent as the chief pearl of all his
treasures all, save the honor of his
tribe, he would have surrendered
rather than surrender Djelma. It was
a passion with hima passion that
not even the iron of his temper and
the dignity of his austere calm could
abate or concealand the rumor of it
and of the beauty of its object reached
the French camp till an impatient curi
osity was roused about her, and a raid
that should bear her off became the
favorite speculation jeund the picket
fires at night and the scorching noons.
The heat was intense the water was
bad and very rare dysentery came
with the scorch and the toil of this
endless charge. The chief in command,
M. le Marquis de Ohateauroy, swore
heavily as he saw many of his- best
men dropping off like sheep in a mur
rain, and he offered 200 napoleons to
whosoever should bring either the
dead sheik's head or the living beauty
One day the chasseurs had pitched
their camp where a few barren, with
ered trees gave a semblance of shelter
and a little thread of brackish water
oozed through the yellow earth. Sud
denly the noon lethargy of the camp
was broken. A trumpet call rang
through the stillness. Against the am
ber transparency of the horizon hue
the outlines of half a dozen horsemen
.were seen coming nearer and nearer
with every moment. They were some
spahis who had been out sweeping the
country for food. The mighty frame
of Chateauroy, almost as unclothed as
an athlete, started from its slumberous
panting rest. His eyes lightened hun
grily. "Hah, they have the woman!"
They had the woman. She had been
netted near a water spring, to which
she had wandered too loosely guarded,
and the colonel's face flushed darkly
with an eager, lustful warmth as he
looked upon his captive. Rumor had
not outboasted the Arab girl's beauty.
Only Djemla was as innocent as the
gazelle, whose grace she resembled,
and loved her lord with a great love.
Of her suffering her captor took no
more heed than if she were a young
bird dying of shot wounds but, with
one triumphant admiring glance at her,
he wrote a message in Arabic to send
to the khalifa ere her loss was discov
ereda message more cruel than iron.
He hesitated a second where he lay at
the opening of his tent whom he should
send with it. His men were almost all
half dead with the sun blaze. His
glance chanced to light in the distance
on a soldier to whom he bore no love,
causelessly, but bitterly all the same.
He had him summoned and eyed him
with a curious amusement. Chateau
roy treated his squadrons with much
the same familiarity and brutality that
a chief of filibusters uses to his.
"So, you heed the heat so little you
give up your turn of water to a drum
mer, they say."
The chasseur gave the salute with a
calm deference. A faint flush passed
over the sun bronze of his forehead.
He had thought the sacrifice had been
"The drummer was but a child, colo-
"Be so good as to give us no more of
those melodramatic acts," said the mar
quis contemptuously. "You are too
fond of trafficking in those showy fool
eries. You bribe your comrades for
their favoritism too openly. I forbid
it. Do you hear?"
"I hear, colonel."
The assent was perfectly tranquil
and respectful. He was too good a sol
dier not to render perfect obedience
and keep perfect silence under any
goad of provocation to break both.
"Obey, then!" said Chateauroy sav
agely. "Well, since you love heat so
well, you shall take a flag of truce and
my scroll to the Sidi Ilderim. But tell
me first, what do you think of this
"It is not my place to give opinions,
"Parbleu! It is your place when I
bid you. Speak, or I will have the stick
cut the words out of you!"
"I may speak frankly?".
"Ten thousand curses, yes!"
"Then I think that those who make
war on women are no longer fit to
fight with men."
For a moment the long, sinewy, mas
sive form of Chateauroy started from
the skins on which he lay at full length
like a lion starting from its lair. His
veins swelled like black cords. Under
the mighty muscle of his bare chest his
heart beat visibly in the fury of his
"By heaven, I have a mind to have
you shot like a dog!"
The chasseur looked at him careless
ly, composedly, but with a serene def
erence still, as due from a soldier to his.
"You have threatened it before, colo
nel. It may be as well to do it, or the
army may think you capricious."
Chateauroy crushed a blasphemous
oath through his clinched teeth and
laughed a certain short, stern, sardonic
laugh, which his men dreaded more
than his wrath.
"No I will send you instead to the
khalifa. He often saves me the trouble
of killing my own curs. Take a flag
of truce and this paper, and never
draw rein till you reach him, if your
beast drop dead at the end."
The chasseur saluted, took the paper,
bowed with a certain languid, easy
grace that camp life never cured him
W and went. He knew that the man
who should take the news of his treas
ure's loss to the Emir Ilderim would,
a thousand to one, perish by every
torture desert cruelty could frame,
despite the cover of the white banner!
Chateauroy looked after him as he
and his horse passed from the French
camp in the full, burning tide of noon.
"If the Arabs kill him," he thought,
"1 will forgive Ilderim five seasons of
The chasseur, as he had been bidden,
never drew rein across the scorching
plateau. At last, ere he reached the
Bedouin tents, he saw the sheik and
a party of horsemen returning from a
foraging quest and in ignorance as
yet of the abduction of Djelma. He
galloped straight to them and halted
across their line of march, with the
folds of the little white flag fluttering
in the sun. The Bedouins drew bridle,
and Ilderim advanced alone. He was
a magnificent man of middle age, with
the noblest type of the eagle eyed,
aquiline desert beauty.
A glance of recognition flashed from
him on the soldier who had so often
crossed swords with him, and he waved
back the scroll with dignified courtesy.
"Read it me."
It was read. Bitterly, blackly, shame
ful, the few brutal words were. They
netted him as an eagle is netted in a
The moment that he gave a sign oi
advancing the captive's life would pay
the penalty if he merely remained in
arms, without direct attack, she would
be made the marquis' mistress and
abandoned later to the army. The
only terms on. which he could have
her restored were instant submission to
the imperial rule and personal homage
of himself and all his Djouad to the
marquis, as the representative of
Francehomage in which they should
confess themselves dogs and the sons
of dogs. So ran the message of peace.
The chasseur read on to the end
calmly. Then he lifted his gaze and
looked at the emir. He expected 50
swords to be buried in his heart.
With a wild, shrill yell the Bedouins
whirled their naked sabers above their
heads and rushed down on the bearer
of this shame to their chief and their
tribe. The chasseur did not seek to
defend himself. He sat motionless.
He thought the vengeance just.
The sheik raised his sword and sign
ed them back as he pointed to the
white folds of the flag: Then his voice
rolled out like thunder over the still
ness of the plains:
"But that you trust yourself to my
honor I would rend you limb from
limb. Go back to the tiger who rules
you and tell him that as Allah liveth I
will fall on him and smite him as he
hath never been smitten. Dead or liv
ing, I will have back my own. If he
take her life, I will have 10,000 lives to
answer it. If he deal her dishonor, I
will light such a holy war through the
length and breadth of the land that his
nation shall be driven backward like
choked dogs into the sea and perish
from the face of the earth for ever
more. And this I swear by the law
and the prophet!"
The menace rolled out, imperious as
a monarch's, thrilling through the des
ert hush. The chasseur bent his head
as the words closed. His own teeth
were tightly clinched, and his face was
"Emir, listen to one word," he said
briefly. "Shame has been done to me
as to you. Had I been told what
words I bore they had never been
brought by my hand. You know me.
You have had the marks of my steel,
as I have had the marks of yours.
Trust me in this, sidi I pledge you
my honor that before the sun sets she
shall be given back to you unharmed,
or I will return here myself, and your
tribe shall slay me in what fashion
they will. So alone can she be saved
uninjured. Answer, will you have faith
"You are a great warrior. Such men
do not lie. Go, and if she be borne to
me before the sun is half way sunk
toward the west all the branches of
the tribes of Ilderim shall be as your
brethren and bend as steel to your
bidding. If notas God is mighty
not one man in your host shall live to
tell the tale."
The chasseur bowed his head to his
horse's mane, then without a word
wheeled round and sped back across
the plain. When he reached his own
cavalry camp, he went straightway to
his chief. What passed between them
none ever knew. The interview was
brief it was possibly as stormy.
Pregnant and decisive it assuredly
was, and the squadrons of Africa mar
veled that the man who dared beard
Chateauroy in his lair came forth with
his life. Whatever the spell he used
the result was a marvel.
At the very moment that the sun
touched the lower half of the western
heavens the Sheik Ilderim, where he
sat in his sidesaddle, with all his tribe
stretching behind him, full armed, to
sweep down like falcons on the spoil
ers if the hour passed with the pledge
unredeemed, saw the form of the chas
seur reappear between his sight and
the glare of the skies nor did he ride
alone. That night the Pearl of the
Desert lay once more in the mighty,
sinuous arms of the great emir.
But, with the dawn, his vengeance
fell in terrible fashion on the sleeping
camp of the Franks, and from that
hour dated the passionate, savage, un
concealed hate of Chateauroy to the
most daring soldier of all his fiery
horse, known in his troop as Bel-a
It was in the tent of Ilderim now
that he reclined, looking outward at
the night where flames were leaping
ruddily under a large caldron, and far
beyond was the dark immensity of
the star studded sky. From the hour
of the restoration of his treasure the
sheik had been true to his oath his
tribe in all its branches had held the
French soldier in closest brotherhood.
Wherever they were he was honored
and welcomed was he in war, their
THE PKINOETON UNION: THURSDAY, MAY 23, 1901.
6words were drawn for him was he
in need, their houses of hair were
spread for him had he want of flight,
the swiftest and most precious of their
horses was at his service had he
'thirst, they would have died them
selves, wringing out the last drop from
the water skin for him. Through him
their alliance, or, more justly to speak,
their neutrality, was secured to
France, and the Bedouin chief loved
him with a great, silent, noble love
that was fast rooted in the granite of
"I wish I had come straight to you,
sidi, when I first set foot in Africa,"
the chasseur said at last, while the fra
grant smoke uncurled from under the
droop of his long, pendent mustaches.
"Truly it had been well," answered
the khalifa, who would have given the
best stallions in his stud to have had
this Frank with him in warfare and in
peace. "There is no life like our life."
*'Faitb, I think not," murmured the
chasseur rather to himself than to the
Bedouin. "The desert keeps you and
your horse, and you can Yet all the rest
of the world go."
"But we are murderers and pillagers,
say your nations," resumed the emir,
with the shadow of a sardonic smile
flickering an instant over the sternness
and composure of his features. "To
rifle a caravan is a crime, though to
steal a continent is glory."
Bel-a-faire-peur laughed slightly.
"Do not tempt me to rebel against
my adopted flag. I never thought at
all when I came to Africa. Had I
thought twice I should not have gone
to your enemies."
His thoughts drifted back over many
varied scenes and changing memories
"I loish I had come straight to you, sidi."
of his service in Algiers as he lay
there at the entrance of the sheik's
tent, with the night of looming shadow
and reddened firelight and picturesque
movement before him Hours of reck
less, headlong delight, when men grew
drunk with bloodshed as with wine
hours of horrible, unsuecored suffering,
when the desert thirst had burned in
his throat and the jagged lances been
broken off at the hilt in his flesh, while
above head the carrion birds wheeled,
waiting their meal hours of severe
discipline, of relentless routine, of bit
ter deprivation, of campaigns hard as
steel in the endurance they needed, in
the miseries they entailed of military
subjection, stern and unbending, a yoke
of iron that a personal and pitiless
tyranny weighted with persecution that
was scarce less than hatred of an im
plicit obedience that required every in
stinct of liberty, every habit of early
life, every impulse of pride and man
hood and freedom to be choked down
like crimes and buried as though they
had never been hours of all the chance
ful fortunes of a soldier's life in hill
wars and desert raids passed in mem
ory through his thoughts now where
he was stretched, looking dreamily
through the film of his chibouque
smoke at the city of tents and the
?ouchant forms of camels and the tall,
white, slowly moving shapes of the
lawless marauders of the sand plains.
"Is my life worth more under the
French flag thau it was under the
English thought the chasseur, with a
"tei'tain careless, indifferent irony on
himself natural to him. "There I killed
timehere 1 kill men. Which is the
better pursuit, I wonder?"
He was more silent and more medi
tative than seemed in keeping with
a wild lion of the chasseurs, whose
daring outdared all the fire eaters and
whose negligent devilry had become a
pas'uord all over Africa till "What
spec al exploit has he done today?"
became the question put after every
skirmish or expedition. But he was
much more of a soldier than a thinker
it any time, and, instead of following
out the problem *of the world's uses
of its two raw materials, time and
men, he found a subject more con
genial in the discussion of stable sci
ence with the emir.
The night was some way spent when
Piie talk of wild pigeon blue mares
and sorrel stallions closed between the
Djied and his guest, and the French
soldier, who had been sent hither from
the Bureau Arabe with another of his
comrades, tcok his way to the black
and white tent prepared for him.
As he opened the folds and entered,
his fellow soldier, who was lying on
his back with his heels much higher
than his head and a short pipe in his
teeth, tumbled himself up with a rapid
feomersault and stood bolt upright. "Beg
pardon, sir! I was half asleep."
The chasseur laughed a little.
"Don't talk English. Somebody will
hear you one day."
"What's the odds if they do, sir?"
responded the other. "It relieves one's
feelings a little. All of 'em know I'm
English, but never a one of 'em knows
what you are. The name you was
enrolled by won't really tell 'em noth*
ing. They guess it ain't yours. That
cute little chap, Tata, he says to me
yesterday, 'You're always a-treating of
your eorsoral like as if he was a
prince.' 'Hang me,' says I, 'I'd like to
see the prince as would hold a candle
to him.' 'You're right there,' says the
little un. "There ain't his equal for
taking off a beggar's head with a back
The corporal laughed a little again
as he tossed himself down on the car
"Well, it's something to have one
virtue. But have a care what those
chatterboxes get out of you."
"Lord, sir, ain't I been a-taking care
these ten years? I've told 'em such a
lot of amazing stories about where we
kem from that they've got half a mil
lion different styles to choose out of.
Bless you, sir, you may let me alone
for bamboozling of anybody!"
With which the speaker dropped on
his knees and began to take off the
trappings of his fellow soldier with as
reverential service as though he were
a lord of the bedchamber serving a
Louis Quatorze. The other motioned
him gently away.
"No, no I have told you a thousand
times, sir, that we aren't and never
Will be and don't oughtn't to be," re
plied the soldier doggedly, drawing off
the spurred and dust covered boots.
"A gentleman's a gentleman, let alone
what straits he falls into, but ceases to
be one as he takes a service he cannot
requite or claims a superiority he does
not possess. We have been fellow sol
diers for 12 years"
"So we have, sir, but we are what
we always was and always will be
one a gentleman, t'other a scamp. If
you think so be as I've clone a good
thing side by side with you now and
then in the fighting, give me my own
way and let me wait on you when I
can. I can't do much on it when those
other fellows' eyes is on us, Lut here I
can and I willbegging your pardon
so there's an end of it. One may speak
plain in this place, with nothing but
them Arabs about, and all the army
knows well enough, sir, that if it
weren't for that black devil, Chateau
roy, you'd have had your officer's com
mission and your troop, too, long be
"Oh, no. There are scores of men in
the ranks who merit promotion better
far than I do. Andleave the colonel's
name alone. He is our chief, whatever
else he be."
The words were calm and careless,
but they carried a weight with them
that was not to be disputed. The other
hung his head a little and went on un
harnessing his corporal in silence, con
tenting himself with muttering in his
throat that it was true for all that and
the whole regiment knew it.
"You are happy enough in Algeria,
eh?" asked the one he served as he
stretched himself on the skins and car
pets and drank down a sherbet that his
self attached attendant had made.
"I, sir? Never was so happy in my
life, sir. I'd be discontented, indeed, if
I wasn't. Always some spicy bit of
fighting. If there aren't a fantasia, as
they call it, in the field, there's always
somebody to pot in a small way, and if
you're lying by in the barracks there's
always a scrimmage hot as pepper to
be got up with fellows that love the
row just as well as you do. It's life
that's what it is. It ain't rusting."
"Then you prefer the French serv-
"Right and away, sir. But won't
there never be no hope, sir?" he whis
pered, while his voice trembled a little
under the long, fierce sweep of his yel
low .mustaches, "no hope of you ever
He stopped. He scarcely knew how to
phrase the thoughts he was thinking.
The other moved with a certain impa
"How often must I tell JTOU
that I was ever anything except a sol
dier of France? Forget, as I have for
The audacious, irrepressible Rake,
whom nothing could daunt and noth
ing could awe, looked penitent and
ashamed as a chidden spaniel.
"I know, sir. I have tried many a
year, but I thought perhaps as how his
"No life and no death can make any
difference to me except the death some
day an Arab's lunge will give me, and
that is a loiig time coming."
"Ah, for God's sake, Mr. Cecil, don't
talk like this!"
The chasseur gave a short, sharp
quiver and started at the name as if a
bullet had struck him.
"Never say that again!"
Rake stammered a contrite apology.
"I never have done, sirnot for never
a year, but it wrung it out of me like
you talking of wanting death in that
"Oh, I don't want death," laughed
the other, with a low, indifferent laugh
ter that had in it a singular tone of
sadness all the while. "I am not sure
that I am not better amused in the
chasseurs than I was in the Household,
specially when we are at war. I sup
pose we must be wild animals at the
core, or we should never find such an
infinite zest in the death grapple. Good
Now, long after his comrade had
slept soundly, the Chasseur d'Afrique
lay wakeful, letting his memory drift
backward to a time that had grown to
be to him as a dream, a time when an
other world than the world of Africa
had known him as Bertie Cecil.
H-HE! We are a queer lot,
a very queer lotsweep
ings of Europe," said
Claude de Chanrellon, dash
ing some vermuth off his golden mus
taches where he lay full length on
three chairs outside the cafe in the
Place du Gouvernement, where the
lamps were just lighted.
"Diamonds are often found in the
ragpicker's sweepings," growled a gen
eral of division, who was the most ter
rible martinet in the whole of the
French service, but who loved his men
with a great love, and who would nev
er hear another disparage them, how
ever^he.might order them blows or ex
ile thenf "to Beylick himself.
"You are poetic, my general," said
Claude de Chanrellon, "but you are
true. We are a furnace in which black
guardism is burned into daredevilry
and turned out as heroism. A fine
manufacture that and one at which
France has no equal."
"We have a right to praise the black
guards," growled the general. "With
out them our conscripts would be very
poor trash. The conscript fights be
cause he has to fight the blackguard
fights because he loves to fighta great
The colonel of tirailleurs lifted his
eyesa slight, pale, effeminate, dark
eyed Parisian, who looked scarcely
stronger than a hothouse flower, yet
who, as many an African chronicle
could tell, was as swift as fire, keen as
steel, unerring as a leopard's leap, un
tiring as an Indian on trail once in the
field with his Indigenes.
"In proportion as one loves powder
one has been a scoundrel, my general,"
he murmured. "WThat
fr Jfc^ TCI w-V i*^
the catalogue of
your crimes must be!"
The tough old campaigner laughed
grimly. He took it as a high compli
"The cardinal virtues don't send any
body, I guess, into African service.
And yet I don't know. What fellows I
have known! I have had men among
my Zephyrsand they were the wild
est scoundrels, toothat would have
ruled the world. I have had more wit,
more address, more genius, more devo
tion, in some headlong scamp of a pri
vate soldier than all the courts and
cabinets could furnish. Such lives,
such lives too!"
"Faith," laughed Chanrellon, "if we
all published our memoirs the world
would have a droll book. The real re
cruiting sergeants that send us to the
ranks would be soon found to be"
"Women," growled the general.
"Cards," sighed the colonel.
"Absinth," muttered another.
"A comedy that was hissed."
"The natural desire of humanity to
kill and get killed."
"Morbleu!" cried Chanrellon as the
voices closed. "All those mischiefs
beat the drum and send volunteers to
the ranks, sure enough, but the general
named the worst. Look at little Cora.
The minister of war should give her
the cross. She sends us ten times more
fire eaters than the conscription does.
Five fine fellows joined today because
she has stripped them of everything,
and they have nothing for it but the
seivice. She is invaluable, Cora. It
was Cceur d'Acier who was the rage in
my time. She ate me up, that woman,
in three months. I had not a hundred
francs left. She stripped me as bare
as a pigeon. Her passion was emer
alds uncut just then. Well, emeralds
made an end of me and sent me out
here. Cceur d'Acier was a wonderful
woman, and the chief wonder of her
was that she was as ugly as sin. Hel
lo! There is the handsome corporal'
listening. Ah, Bel-a-faire-peur, you
too, among the Coeurs d'Acier oncc^
The chasseur, who was passing, paus
ed and smiled a little as he saluted.
"Cceurs d'Acier are to be found in all
ranks of the sex, monsieur, I fancy."
"Bah! You beg the question. Did
not a woman send you out here, eh?"
"No, monsieuronly chance."
"A fig for your chance! Women are
the mischief that casts us adrift to
"Monsieur, we cast ourselves some
"I doubt that. We should go straight
enough if it were not for them."
The chasseur smiled again.
"Monsieur le Vicomte thinks we are
sure to be right, then, if for the key to
every black story we ask, 'Who was
"Of course I do. Well, who was she?
We are all quoting our tempters to
night. Give us your story, mon brave."
"Monsieur, you have it in the military
records as well as my sword could
"Good, good," muttered the listening
general. The soldierlike answer pleased
him, and he looked attentively at the
giver of it.
Chanrellon's brown eyes flashed a
"And your sword writes in a brave
man's fashion writes what France
loves to read. But before you wore
your sword here? Tell us of that. It
was a romance, wasn't it?"
"If it were, I have folded down the
"Open it then. Come, what brought
you out among us? Out with it!"
"Monsieur, direct obedience is a sol
dier's duty, but I never heard that in
quisitive annoyance was an officer's
The words were calm, cold, a little
languid and a little haughty. The man
ner of old habit, the instinct of buried
pride, spoke in them and disregarded
the barrier between a private of chas
seurs and a colonel commandant who
was also a noble of France.
Chanrellon flushed scarlet over his
frank brow, and an instant's passion
gleamed out of his eyes. The next he
threwhisthreechairs down with a crash
as he shook his mighty frame like an
Alpine dog and bowed with a French
grace, with a campaigner's frankness.
"A right rebuke, fairly given and well
deserved. I thank you for the lesson."
The chasseur looked surprised and
moved. In truth he was more touched
than he showed. Under the rule of
Chateauroy consideration or courtesy
had been a thing long unshown to him.
Involuntarily, forgetful of rank, he
stretched his hand out on the impulse
of soldier to soldier, of gentleman to
gentleman. Then, as the bitter re
membrance of the difference of rank
and station between them flashed on
his memory, he was raising it proudly.