hare of it. The Emperor's staff starts for Munich to-morrow. I must
accompany them; but I leave you in good hands here, and this detachment
will occupy Elchingen at least ten days longer."

Scarcely had the general left me when mademoiselle re-entered the room.

"So Monsieur," said she, smiling archly, "you have been left in my care,
it seems. Morbleu! it's well the vivandiere of the regiment is not a
prude, or I should scarcely know how to act. Well, well, one can only do
one's best. And now, shall I read for you, or shall I leave you quiet
for an hour or two?"

"Just so; leave him alone for a little while," said a gruff voice
from the end of the bed, at the same time that the huge beard and red
mustache of Pioche appeared peeping above the curtain.

"Is he not stupid, that great animal of a cuirassier?" said
mademoiselle, starting at the voice so unexpectedly heard. "I say, mon
caporal, right face,--march. Do you hear, sir? You 've got the feuille de
route; what do you stay for?"

"Ah, Mademoiselle!" said the poor fellow, as he smoothed down his
hair on his forehead, and looked the very impersonation of sheepish
admiration.

"Well?" replied she, as if not understanding his appeal to her
feelings--"well?"

A look of total embarrassment, an expression of complete bewilderment,
was his only reply; while his eyes wandered round the room till they met
mine; and then, as if suddenly conscious that a third party was present,
he blushed deeply, and said,--

"Too true, mon lieutenant; she does with me what she will."

"Don't believe him. Monsieur," interposed she, quickly. "I told him to
get knocked on the head a dozen times, and he 's never done so."

"I would though, and right soon too, if you were only in earnest," said
he, with a vehemence that bespoke the truth of the assertion.

"There, there," said she, with a smile, as she held out her hand to him;
"we are friends."

The poor fellow pressed it to his lips with the respectful devotion of a
Bayard; and with a muttered "This evening," left the room.

"It is no small triumph, Mademoiselle," said I, "that you have inspired
such a passion in the hardy breast of the cuirassier."

A saucy shake of the head, as though she did not like the compliment,
was the only reply. She bent her head down over her work, and seemed
absorbed in its details; while I, reverting to my own cares, became
silent also.

"And so, Monsieur," said she, after a long pause--"and so you