One moment, colonel!" someone spoke quietly. "Is it a Huastecan custom,
by the way, to shoot a cavalier the instant he--ah--dismounts?"

"But this scoundrel is Rodrigo Galan, Your Majesty. And that black
horse, sacre tonnerre, that is Maurel's horse. Captain Maurel, sire,
whom he murdered!"

Don Rodrigo straightened pompously. "Your Most Opportune Majesty--" he
began.

"Also, Colonel Dupin," Maximilian continued, "he waylaid the Belgian
ambassador, sent by Leopold, brother to Our August Spouse."

"The more reason to shoot him, pardi!"

"Without doubt, monsieur. But his execution must have eclat. Europe must
know that Mexican outlaws do not go unpunished.--Colonel Lopez, you will
take charge of Our prisoner. Guard him well, and bring him with you to
the City. He shall be tried there, with every ceremony."

Colonel Dupin, that policeman of the backwoods forced upon Mexico by
Napoleon, could only grind his teeth, which he did.

"Now then," said His Majesty, "let Us see this brigand-catcher who
excels the redoubtable Contra Guerrillas.--As I live, the young man is a
Chasseur d'Afrique! Step nearer, sir, and tell Us who you are."

"Michel Ney, at Your Majesty's service."

"The Prince of Moskowa!" exclaimed the Emperor. In his court, he was
grateful for even a Napoleonic prince.

"Sergeant, Your Majesty." It looked as though Ney were hinting to be
made something else.

"I see," said Maximilian. "And so Our Empire of romance is to hold a
baton for another of the family of Ney. But to start more modestly, how
would a lieutenancy suit, do you think?"

"Your pardon, sire, but I report to His Excellency, Marshal Bazaine."

Maximilian's white brow clouded. The French occupation was ever a thorn
in his side. He could never quite be Emperor in fact. He could not even
promote a likely young man. He had to "recommend" to one Bazaine, who
had carried a knapsack.

"Quite so," he answered coldly. "I shall inform Our dear Marshal how
well you deserve."

"The fact is, Your Majesty," said Ney in some confusion, "I did
not--exactly--capture him. It was, uh, sort of mutual."

Everybody stared curiously. There was the rope, the unloaded pistols. It
was a queer puzzle. How did it happen? Ney began with an apology. Would
Mademoiselle d'Aumerle forgive him? But he had worried though! He should
not have left her, day before yesterday!

"Because of a greater attraction?" the young woman suggested.

Ney demurred so earnestly tha