en one of guilty of treason.

"Saint-Prosper and Abd-el-Kader met near the tomb of a marabout. From
him the French officer received a famous ruby which he thrust beneath
his zaboot--the first fee of their compact. That night when the town
lay sleeping, a turbaned host, armed with yataghans, stole through the
flowering cactuses. Sesame! The gate opened to them; they swarmed
within! The soldiers, surprised, could render little resistance; the
ruthless invaders cut them down while they were sleeping or before
they could sound the alarm. The bravest blood of France flowed
lavishly in the face of the treacherous onslaught; blood of men who
had been his fastest friends, among whom he had been so popular for
his dauntless courage and devil-may-care temerity! But a period,
fearfully brief, and the beloved tri-color was trampled in the dust;
the barbarian flag of the Emir floated in its place.

"All these particulars, and the part Saint-Prosper played in the
terrible drama, Abd-el-Kader, who is now our prisoner, has himself
confessed. The necessity for secrecy, you, my dear Marquis, will
appreciate. The publicity of the affair now would work incalculable
injury to the nation. It is imperative to preserve the army from the
taint of scandal. The nation hangs on a thread. God knows there is
iniquity abroad. I, who have labored for the honor of France and
planted her flag in distant lands, look for defeat, not through want
of bravery, but from internal causes. A matter like this might lead to
a popular uprising against the army. Therefore, the king wills it
shall be buried by his faithful servants."

As Mauville proceeded Susan remained motionless, her eyes growing
larger and larger, until they shone like two lovely sapphires, but
when he concluded she gave a little sigh of pleasure and leaned back
with a pleased smile.

"Well?" he said, finally, after waiting some moments for her to
speak.

"How piquantly wicked he is!" she exclaimed, softly.

"Piquantly, indeed!" repeated the land baron, dryly.

"And he carries it without a twinge! What a petrified conscience!"

"I believe you find him more interesting than ever?" said Mauville,
impatiently.

"Possibly!" Languidly. "An exceptional moral ailment sometimes makes a
man more attractive--like a--an interesting subject in a hospital, you
know! But I have always felt," she continued, with sudden seriousness,
"there was something wrong with him. When I first saw him, I was sure