the cause of
his uneasiness.

"Alas!" he replied, "habit can't get rid of; a poor dog! good dog!
Always saying, 'Here Blaireau! Blaireau, here!'"

"I understand," I said, "Blaireau is dead, and you cannot accustom
yourself to the idea that you will never see him at your heels again."

"Dead!" he exclaimed, with an expression of horror. "No, thank God!
Friend Patience, great friend! Blaireau quite well off, but sad like his
master; his master alone!"

"If Blaireau is with Patience," said Arthur, "he is well off, as you
say; for Patience wants nothing. Patience will love him because he loves
his master, and you are certain to see your good friend and faithful dog
again."

Marcasse turned his eyes upon the individual who seemed to be so well
acquainted with his life; but, feeling sure that he had never seen him
before, he acted as he was wont to do when he did not understand; he
raised his hat and bowed respectfully.

On my immediate recommendation Marcasse was enrolled in my company
and, a little while afterward, was made a sergeant. The worthy man went
through the whole campaign with me, and went through it bravely; and in
1782, when I rejoined Rochambeau's army to fight under the French flag,
he followed me, as he was anxious to share my lot until the end. In the
early days I looked upon him rather as an amusement than a companion;
but his excellent conduct and calm fearlessness soon won for him the
esteem of all, and I had reason to be proud of my _protege_. Arthur also
conceived a great friendship for him; and, when off duty, he accompanied
us in all our walks, carrying the naturalist's box and running the
snakes through with his sword.

But when I tried to make him speak of my cousin, he by no means
satisfied me. Whether he did not understand how eager I felt to learn
all the details of the life she was leading far away from me, or
whether in this matter he was obeying one of those inviolable laws
which governed his conscience, I could never obtain from him any clear
solution of the doubts which harassed me. Quite early he told me that
there was no question of her marriage with any one; but, accustomed
though I was to his vague manner of expressing himself, I imagined he
seemed embarrassed in making this assertion and had the air of a man
who had sworn to keep a secret. Honour forbade me to insist to such an
extent as to let him see my hopes, and so there always remained between
us a painful point which I t