ying looks, took her by the
hand and drew her in silence towards the kitchen.

Josephine yielded a mute submission at first; but at the very door hung
back and faltered, "He loves another; he is married: let me go." Rose
made no reply, but left her there and went into the kitchen and found
two dragoons seated round a bottle of wine. They rose and saluted her.

"Be seated, my brave men," said she; "only please tell me what you told
Jacintha about Captain Dujardin."

"Don't stain your mouth with the captain, my little lady. He is a
traitor."

"How do you know?"

"Marcellus! mademoiselle asks us how we know Captain Dujardin to be a
traitor. Speak."

Marcellus, thus appealed to, told Rose after his own fashion that he
knew the captain well: that one day the captain rode out of the camp and
never returned: that at first great anxiety was felt on his behalf, for
the captain was a great favorite, and passed for the smartest soldier in
the division: that after awhile anxiety gave place to some very awkward
suspicions, and these suspicions it was his lot and his comrade's here
to confirm. About a month later he and the said comrade and two more
were sent, well mounted, to reconnoitre a Spanish village. At the door
of a little inn they caught sight of a French uniform. This so excited
their curiosity that he went forward nearer than prudent, and distinctly
recognized Captain Dujardin seated at a table drinking between two
guerillas; then he rode back and told the others, who then came up and
satisfied themselves it was so: that if any of the party had entertained
a doubt, it was removed in an unpleasant way; he, Marcellus, disgusted
at the sight of a French uniform drinking among Spaniards, took down his
carabine and fired at the group as carefully as a somewhat restive horse
permitted: at this, as if by magic, a score or so of guerillas poured
out from Heaven knows where, musket in hand, and delivered a volley;
the officer in command of the party fell dead, Jean Jacques here got a
broken arm, and his own horse was wounded in two places, and fell from
loss of blood a few furlongs from the French camp, to the neighborhood
of which the vagabonds pursued them, hallooing and shouting and firing
like barbarous banditti as they were.

"However, here I am," concluded Marcellus, "invalided for awhile, my
lady, but not expended yet: we will soon dash in among them again for
death or glory. Meantime," concluded he, filling both gla