s
wandering!--even if one could expect no such gallantry from the
Chevalier de Missour-_i_. There now, do you tell Tobie to drive
on----"

"But mademoiselle----"

"Say 'Jeanne'," the marchioness commanded, stamping her foot.

"My lady," the girl persisted, but added with affectionate earnestness,
"and my only friend, I was simply going to say that we are not deserted
after all."

"But didn't I see him riding away?"

"_Him_, yes, but look out of the window. See, he's left six or
eight--O--oh----"

It was a joyful cry, which got smothered at once in confusion. Turning
quickly, Jacqueline beheld a little Bretonne with eyes cast down and
cheeks aflame. Yet even then Berthe gave a cosy sigh of relief. There
was cannonading not far away. They had just been taken by brigands, and
as suddenly left alone on the road. Thus Jacqueline's company ever cost
her many a tremor. Yet somehow one of those chevaliers de
Missour-_i_ needed only to appear, and she felt as secure as a
kitten on the hearth rug. A chevalier de Missour-_i_ had but now
ridden up to the coach door.

"Berthe!" whispered Jacqueline severely, so that the girl thought her
dress was awry. "Quick, tuck your heart away in your pocket. It's right
there on your sleeve." Whereat Berthe employed the sleeve to hide her
higher mantling color.

Jacqueline turned on the chevalier at the window, and surveyed
_his_ sleeve. It was covered with dust, but Jacqueline's big eyes
could see through dust. She felt about her a subtle atmosphere that made
her an outsider.

"Ah, Monsieur le Troubadour?" came her bantering recognition.

Mr. Boone's French crowded pleasantly to his tongue tip. "Mademoiselle,"
he returned, "and," he added, with an odd glance toward Berthe, "Madame
l'Imperatrice, uh--how goes it?"

Jacqueline's lashes raised inquiringly, until she remembered how the
lank gentleman before her, with the tender heart of a Quixote, had
mistaken Berthe for the Empress, months before at the Cordova
plantation. She liked him somehow better now for persisting in it.

"Her Imperial Highness," she explained, very soberly, "may deign
presently to observe that you are here, monsieur, though, as you see,
her thoughts are far away. However, if you can possibly give your own to
a humbler person, to myself, dear Troubadour, I should very much like to
know what is to happen next. Use fine words, if you must; even put it
into verse, only tell me----" With an impulsive shove she f