Why, of course."

"And who--who saw her the night before the election--let me sit
down--who saw her with him then?"

"My brother," replied one of the captains. "She was just coming out of
the tent, as he passed with the guard."

"Don't take the matter to heart," said the other. "There are plenty of
women! We are growing old, and can no longer cope with a handsome fellow
like Navarrete."

"I thought the sibyl was more sensible," added the younger captain. "I
saw her in Naples sixteen years ago. Zounds, she was a beautiful woman
then! A pretty creature even now; but Navarrete might almost be her
son. And you always treated her kindly, Pasquale. Well, whoever expects
gratitude from women...."

Suddenly the quartermaster remembered the hour just before the election,
when Florette had thrown herself upon his breast, and thanked him for
his kindness; clenching his teeth, he groaned aloud.

The others were about to leave him, but he regained his self-control,
and said:

"Take him the count's letter, Renato. What I have to say to him, I will
determine later."

Zorrillo was a long time unlacing his jerkin and taking out the paper.
Both of his companions noticed how his fingers trembled, and looked at
each other compassionately; but the older one said, as he received the
letter:

"Man, man, this will do no good. Women are like good fortune."

"Take the thing as a thousand others have taken it, and don't come to
blows. You wield a good blade, but to attack Navarrete is suicide. I'll
take him the letter. Be wise, Zorrillo, and look for another love at
once."

"Directly, directly, of course," replied the quartermaster; but as soon
as he had sent the maid-servant away, and was entirely alone, he bowed
his forehead upon the table and his shoulders heaved convulsively. He
remained in this attitude a long time, then paced to and fro with forced
calmness. Morning dawned long ere he sought his couch.

Early the next day he made his report to the Eletto before the assembled
council of war, and when it broke up, approached Navarrete, saying, in
so loud a tone that no one could fail to hear:

"I congratulate you on your new sweetheart."

"With good reason," replied the Eletto. "Wait a little while, and I'll
wager that you'll congratulate me more sincerely than you do to-day."

The offers from Brussels had again proved unacceptable. It was necessary
now to act, and the insurgent commander profited by the time at his
dispos