ing Parisienne.

Michel Ney leaned nearer over the table. "In all conscience,
mademoiselle, your Fra Diavolo is bizarre enough," he said, "but please
don't let us stir him up. Think, if anything should happen to you, why
Mexico, why France would----"

"You flatter!" she mocked him. "Only two empires to keep me out of a
flirtation? It's not enough, Michel."

A shadow fell over them. "My apologies," spoke a deep voice, "but the
senorita, she is going to the City, to the Capital, perhaps?"

The syllables fell one by one, distinct and heavy. The Spanish was
elaborately cermonious, but the accent was Mexican and almost gutteral.

"L'impertinent!" cried Ney, bounding to his feet. No diffidence cloyed
his manner now. He was on familiar ground at last, for the first time
since fighting Arabs in Algeria. He was supremely happy too, and as mad
as a Gaul can be. "L'impertinent!" he repeated, coaxingly.

"Now don't be ridiculous, Michel," said Jacqueline. "He can't understand
you."

Moreover, the fame of the Chasseurs, of those colossal heroes with their
terrible sabres, of their legendary prowess in the Crimea, in China, in
Italy, in Africa, none of it seemed to daunt the Mexican in the least.

"How, little Soldier-Boy Blue?" he inquired with cumbrous pleasantry.

"Alas, senor," said Jacqueline, "he's quite a little brother to
dragons."

"What are you talking about?" Michel demanded.

"I am keeping you from being eaten up, young sire, but," and
Jacqueline's tone changed, "pray give yourself the trouble to be calm.
He only means a kindly offer of service, no doubt, however strange that
may seem to your delicacy of breeding, Monsieur the Duke."

Michel heaved a sigh and--sat down. He was no longer on familiar ground.
Then Fra Diavolo proceeded to verify mademoiselle's judgment of him.
Sombrero in hand and with a pompous courtliness, he repeated his natural
supposition that the senorita was on her way to the City (meaning the
City of Mexico), and perhaps to the court of His Glorious Majesty,
Maximiliano. He offered himself, therefore, in case he might have the
felicity to be of use. This she need not consider as personal, if it in
any way offended, but as an official courtesy, since she saw in him an
officer--an officer of His Most Peace-loving Majesty's Contra
Guerrillas. And thus to a conclusion, impressively, laboriously.

Jacqueline was less delighted than at first. The dash and daredeviltry
was somehow not quite s