of cordage,
and the puff! puff! of the ferry-boats. On the bastions of the
fortress opposite, a bugler was standing. Twice the mellow notes of
the bugle came faintly over the water, then a great gun thundered from
the ramparts, and the Belgian flag fluttered along the lanyards to the
ground.

"I leaned listlessly on the sea-wall and looked down at the Scheldt
below. A battery of artillery was embarking for the fortress. The
tublike transport lay hissing and whistling in the slip, and the
stamping of horses, the rumbling of gun and caisson, and the sharp
cries of the officers came plainly to the ear.

"When the last caisson was aboard and stowed, and the last trooper had
sprung jingling to the deck, the transport puffed out into the
Scheldt, and I turned away through the throng of promenaders; and
found a little table on the terrace, just outside of the pretty cafe.
And as I sat down I became aware of a girl at the next table--a girl
all in white--the most ravishingly and distractingly pretty girl that
I had ever seen. In the agitation of the moment I forgot my name, my
fortune, my aunt, and the Crimson Diamond--all these I forgot in a
purely human impulse to see clearly; and to that end I removed my
monocle from my left eye. Some moments later I came to myself and
feebly replaced it. It was too late; the mischief was done. I was not
aware at first of the exact state of my feelings--for I had never been
in love more than three or four times in all my life--but I did know
that at her request I would have been proud to stand on my head, or
turn a flip-flap into the Scheldt.

"I did not stare at her, but I managed to see her most of the time
when her eyes were in another direction. I found myself drinking
something which a waiter brought, presumably upon an order which I did
not remember having given. Later I noticed that it was a loathsome
drink which the Belgians call 'American grog,' but I swallowed it and
lighted a cigarette. As the fragrant cloud rose in the air, a voice,
which I recognized with a chill, broke, into my dream of enchantment.
Could _he_ have been there all the while--there sitting beside that
vision in white? His hat was off, and the ocean-breezes whispered
about his bald head. His frayed coat-tails were folded carefully over
his knees, and between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand he
balanced a bad cigar. He looked at me in a mildly cheerful way, and
said, 'I know now.'

"'Know what?' I a