that man I called to you about."

"And why, my Little One?"

"Because I desire it!" said Cigarette, with her most imperious emphasis.
"They say he is English, and a ruined Milord, pardieu! Now, I would not
have an Englishman think I thought his six feet of carcass worth saving,
for a ransom."

The Tringlo chuckled; he was an Anglophobist. In the Chinese expedition
his share of "loot" had been robbed from him by a trick of which two
English soldiers had been the concocters, and a vehement animosity
against the whole British race had been the fruit of it in him.

"Non, non, non!" he answered her heartily. "I understand. Thou art very
bright, Cigarette. If we have ever obliged an Englishman, he thinks his
obligation to us opens him a neat little door through which to cheat us.
It is very dangerous to oblige the English; they always hate you for it.
That is their way. They may have virtues; they may," he added dubiously,
but with an impressive air of strictest impartiality, "but among them
is not written gratitude. Ask that man, Rac, how they treat their
soldiers!" and M. Georges hurried away to this mules and his duties;
thinking with loving regret of the delicious Chinese plunder of which
the dogs of Albion had deprived him.

"He is safe!" thought Cigarette; of the patrol who had seen her, she was
not afraid--he had never noticed with whom she was when he had put his
head into the scullion's tent; and she made her way toward the place
where she had left him, to see how it went with this man who she as so
careful should never know that which he had owed to her.

It went well with him, thanks to her; care, and strengthening
nourishment, and the skill of her tendance had warded off all danger
from his wound. The bruise and pressure from the weight of the horse
had been more ominous, and he could not raise himself or even breathe
without severe pain; but his fever had left him, and he had just been
lifted into a mule-drawn ambulance-wagon as Cigarette reached the spot.

"How goes the day, M. Victor? So you got sharp scratches, I hear? Ah!
that was a splendid thing we had yesterday! When did you go down?
We charged together!" she cried gayly to him; then her voice dropped
suddenly, with an indescribable sweetness and change of tone. "So!--you
suffer still?" she asked softly.

Coming close up to where he lay on the straw, she saw the exhausted
languor of his regard, the heavy darkness under his eyelids, the effort
wit