, for we have heard all about it."

"Are you jesting?"

"No."

"If I understand you right, you imply that I have broken faith with
Josephine?"

"Certainly."

"Then you lie, Mademoiselle Rose de Beaurepaire."

"Insolent!"

"No. It is you who have insulted your sister as well as me. She was not
made to be deserted for meaner women. Come, mademoiselle, affront me,
and me alone, and you shall find me more patient. Oh! who would have
thought Beaurepaire would receive me thus?"

"It is your own fault. You never sent her a line for all these years."

"Why, how could I?"

"Well, sir, the information you did not supply others did. We know that
you were seen in a Spanish village drinking between two guerillas."

"That is true," said Camille.

"An honest French soldier fired at you. Why, he told us so himself."

"He told you true," said Camille, sullenly. "The bullet grazed my hand;
see, here is the mark. Look!" She did look, and gave a little scream;
but recovering herself, said she wished it had gone through his heart.
"Why prolong this painful interview?" said she; "the soldier told us
all."

"I doubt that," said Camille. "Did he tell you that under the table I
was chained tight down to the chair I sat in? Did he tell you that my
hand was fastened to a drinking-horn, and my elbow to the table, and two
fellows sitting opposite me with pistols quietly covering me, ready to
draw the trigger if I should utter a cry? Did he tell you that I would
have uttered that cry and died at that table but for one thing, I had
promised her to live?"

"Not he; he told me nothing so incredible. Besides, what became of you
all these years? You are a double traitor, to your country and to her."

Camille literally gasped for breath. "You are a most cruel young lady
to insult me so," said he, and scalding tears forced themselves from his
eyes.

Rose eyed him with merciless scorn.

He fought manfully against this weakness, with which his wound and his
fatigue had something to do, as well as Rose's bitter words; and after
a gallant struggle he returned her her haughty stare, and addressed her
thus: "Mademoiselle, I feel myself blush, but it is for you I blush, not
for myself. This is what BECAME of me. I went out alone to explore; I
fell into an ambuscade; I shot one of the enemy, and pinked another,
but my arm being broken by a bullet, and my horse killed under me, the
rascals got me. They took me about, tried to make a decoy of