uring these days he learned to smile when he was angry, to speak
pleasantly while curses were burning on his lips. He was careful not to
betray by look, word, or deed what was passing in his mind, as he feared
the ridicule that would ensue should he fail to achieve his purpose.

One more day, one more night, and perhaps he would be
commander-in-chief, able to conquer a kingdom and keep the world in
terror. Perhaps, only perhaps; for another was seeking with dangerous
means to obtain control of the army.

This was Sergeant-Major and Quartermaster Zorrillo, an excellent
and popular soldier, who had been chosen Eletto after the battle of
Mook-Heath, but voluntarily resigned his office at the first serious
opposition he encountered.

It was said that he had done this by his wife's counsel, and this woman
was Ulrich's most dangerous foe.

Zorrillo belonged to another regiment, but Ulrich had long known him and
his companion, the "campsibyl."

Wine was sold in the quartermaster's tent, which, before the outbreak of
the mutiny, had been the rendezvous of the officers and chaplains.

The sibyl entertained the officers with her gay conversation, while they
drank or sat at the gaining-table; she probably owed her name to the
skill she displayed in telling fortunes by cards. The common soldiers
liked her too, because she took care of their sick wives and children.

Navarrete preferred to spend his time in his own regiment, so he did not
meet the Zorrillos often until the mutiny at Schouwen and on the march
through Brabant. He had never sought, and now avoided them; for he knew
the sibyl was leaving no means untried to secure her partner's election.
Therefore he disliked them; yet he could not help occasionally entering
their tent, for the leaders of the mutiny held their counsels there.
Zorrillo always received him courteously; but his companion gazed at him
so intently and searchingly, that an anxious feeling, very unusual to
the bold fellow, stole over him.

He could not help asking himself whether he had seen her before, and
when the thought that she perhaps resembled his mother, once entered his
mind, he angrily rejected it.

The day before she had offered to tell his fortune; but he refused
point-blank, for surely no good tidings could come to him from those
lips.

To-day she had asked what his Christian name was, and for the first
time in years he remembered that he was also called "Ulrich." Now he
was nothing bu