ag-end of the thing, or this man
who lived the whole day through in the carnage, and never let go of the
guidon, but only thought how to die greatly? I tell you, the Cross is
his, and not mine. Take it back, and give it where it is due."

The Marshal listened, half amazed, half amused--half prepared to resent
the insult to the Empire and to discipline, half disposed to award that
submission to her caprice which all Algeria gave to Cigarette.

"Mademoiselle," he said, with a grave smile, "the honors of the Empire
are not to be treated thus. But who is this man for whom you claim so
much?"

"Who is he?" echoed Cigarette, with all her fiery disdain for authority
ablaze once more like brandy in a flame. "Oh, ha! Napoleon Premier would
not have left his Marshals to ask that! He is the finest soldier in
Africa, if it be possible for one to be finer than another where all
are so great. They know that; they pick him out for all the dangerous
missions. But the Black Hawk hates him, and so France never hears the
truth of all that he does. I tell you, if the Emperor had seen him as I
saw him on the field of Zaraila, his would have been the Cross, and not
mine."

"You are generous, my Little One."

"No; I am just."

Her brave eyes glowed in the sun, her voice rang as clear as a bell. She
raised her head proudly and glanced down the line of her army. She was
just--that was the one virtue in Cigarette's creed without which you
were poltroon, or liar, or both.

She alone knew what neglect, what indifference, what unintentional, but
none the less piercing, insults she had to avenge; she alone knew of
that pain with which she had heard the name of his patrician rival
murmured in delirious slumber after Zaraila; she alone knew of that
negligent caress of farewell with which her lips had been touched as
lightly as his hand caressed a horse's neck or a bird's wing. But these
did not weigh with her one instant to make her withhold the words that
she deemed deserved; these did not balance against him one instant the
pique and the pain of her own heart, in opposition to the due of his
courage and his fortitude.

Cigarette was rightly proud of her immunity from the weakness of her
sex; she had neither meanness nor selfishness.

The Marshal listened gravely, the groups around him smilingly. If it had
been any other than the Little One, it would have been very different;
as it was, all France and all Algeria knew Cigarette.

"What m