of the fairest and
haughtiest women that ever adorned a court. She was too generous not to
rescue anyone who suffered through her the slightest injustice, not to
interfere when through her any misconception lighted on another;
she saw, with her rapid perception and sympathy, that the man whom
Chateauroy addressed with the brutal insolence of a bully to his
disobedient dog, had once been a gentlemen, though he now held but the
rank of a sous-officier in the Algerian Cavalry, and she saw that he
suffered all the more keenly under an outrage he had no power to resist
because of that enforced serenity, that dignity of silence and of
patience, with which he stood before his tyrant.

"Wait," she said, moving a little toward them, while she let her eyes
rest on the carver of the sculptures with a grave compassion, though she
addressed his chief. "You wholly mistake me. I laid no blame whatever
on your Corporal. Let him take the chessmen back with him; I would on no
account rob him of them. I can well understand that he does not care to
part with such masterpieces of his art; and that he would not appraise
them by their worth in gold only shows that he is a true artist, as
doubtless also he is a true soldier."

The words were spoken with a gracious courtesy; the clear, cold tone of
her habitual manner just marking in them still the difference of caste
between her and the man for whom she interceded, as she would equally
have interceded for a dog who should have been threatened with the lash
because he had displeased her. That very tone struck a sharper blow to
Cecil than the insolence of his commander had power to deal him. His
face flushed a little; he lifted his cap to her with a grave reverence,
and moved away.

"I thank you, madame. Keep them, if you will so far honor me."

The words reached only her ear. In another instant he had passed away
down the terrace steps, obedient to his chief's dismissal.

"Ah! have no kind scruples in keeping them, madame," Chateauroy laughed
to her, as she still held in her hand, doubtfully, the White Sheik of
the chess Arabs; "I will see that Bel-a-faire-peur, as they call him,
does not suffer by losing these trumperies, which, I believe, old
Zist-et-Zest, a veteran of ours and a wonderful carver, had really far
more to do with producing than he. You must not let your gracious pity
be moved by such fellows as these troopers of mine; they are the most
ingenious rascals in the world, and