King she held.

"That man does not carve for brandy," she thought.

"It must be a solace to many a weary hour in the barracks to be able to
produce such beautiful trifles as these?" she said aloud. "Surely you
encourage such pursuits, monsieur?"

"Not I," said Chateauroy, with a dash of his camp tone that he could
not withhold. "There are but two arts or virtues for a trooper to my
taste--fighting and obedience."

"You should be in the Russian service, M. de Chateauroy," said the lady
with a smile, that, slight as it was, made the Marquis' eyes flash fire.

"Almost I wish I had been," he answered her; "men are made to keep their
grades there, and privates who think themselves fine gentlemen receive
the lash they merit."

"How he hates his Corporal!" she thought while she laid aside the White
King once more.

"Nay," interposed Chateauroy, recovering his momentary self-abandonment,
"since you like the bagatelles, do me honor enough to keep them."

"Oh, no! I offered your soldier his own price for them this morning, and
he refused any."

Chateauroy swung round.

"Ah, you dared refuse your bits of ivory when you were honored by an
offer for them?"

Cecil stood silent; his eyes met his chief's steadily; Chateauroy had
seen that look when his Chasseur had bearded him in the solitude of his
tent, and demanded back the Pearl of the Desert.

The Princesse glanced at both; then she stooped her elegant head
slightly to the Marquis.

"Do not blame your Corporal unjustly through me, I pray you. He refused
any price, but he offered them to me very gracefully as a gift, though
of course it was not possible that I should accept them so."

"The man is the most insolent in the service," muttered her host, as he
motioned Cecil back off the terrace. "Get you gone, sir, and leave your
toys here, or I will have them broken up by a hammer."

The words were low, that they should not offend the ears of the great
ladies who were his listeners; but they were coarsely savage in their
whispered command, and the Princesse heard them.

"He has brought his Chasseur here only to humiliate him," she thought,
with the same thought that flashed through the mind of the Little
Friend of the Flag where she hid among her rhododendrons. Now the dainty
aristocrate was very proud, but she was not so proud but that justice
was stronger in her than pride; and a noble, generous temper mellowed
the somewhat too cold and languid negligence of one