he looked sick and
pale the whole day after.

We learned in the course of the day that some cavalry detachments would
pass early on the morrow, thus allowing us sufficient time to provide
ourselves with horses, and make our other arrangements for the march.
These we succeeded in doing to our satisfaction; I being fortunate
enough to secure the charger of an Austrian prisoner, mademoiselle being
already admirably mounted with her palfrey. Occupied with these details,
the day passed rapidly over, and the hour for supper drew near without
my feeling how the time slipped past.

[Illustration: BrowneMuratAndMinettePage003]

At last the welcome meal made its appearance, and with it mademoiselle
herself. I could not help remarking that her toilette displayed a more
than common attention: her neat Parisian cap; her collar, with its deep
Valenciennes lace; and her _tablier_, so coquettishly embroidered,--were
all signs of an unusual degree of care; and though she was pale and in
low spirits, I never saw her look so pretty. All my efforts to make her
converse were, however, in vain. Some secret weight lay heavily on her
spirits, and not even the stirring topics of the coming campaign could
awaken one spark of her enthusiasm. She evaded, too, every allusion
to the following day's march, or answered my questions about it with
evident constraint. Tired at last with endeavoring to overcome her
silent mood, I affected an air of chagrin, thinking to pique her by it;
but she merely remarked that I appeared weary, and that, as I had a long
journey before me, it were as well I should retire early.

The marked coolness of her manner at this moment struck me so forcibly
that I began really to feel some portion of the ill-temper I affected,
and with the crossness of an over-petted child, I arose to withdraw at
once.

"Good-by, Monsieur; good-night, I mean," said she, blushing slightly.

"Good-night, Mademoiselle," said I, taking her hand coldly as I spoke.
"I trust I may find you in better spirits to-morrow."

"Good-night,--adieu!" said she, hastily; and before I could add a word
she was gone.

"She is a strange girl," thought I, as I found myself alone, and
tortured my mind to think whether anything I could have dropped had
offended her. But no: we had parted a few hours before the best friends
in the world; nothing had then occurred to which I could attribute
this sudden change. I had often remarked the variable character of her