"You must not be angry with me, Mariquita; our visit to Europa must be deferred; I am on duty every day. They have made me orderly—"
"I do not believe you," interrupted the girl, pettishly. "Go about your business! Do not trouble to come here again, Don Stanislas. Benito will take me where I want to go."
"I will break Benito's head whenever I catch him in your company," said the young serjeant, with so much energy that Mariquita was obliged to laugh. "Come, dearest, be more reasonable. It is not my fault, you know; I am never happy away from your side. But, remember, I am a soldier, and must obey the orders I receive."
"I was wrong to love a soldier," said Mariquita, growing sad and serious all at once. "Some day you will get orders to march—to India, Constantinople, Russia—where can any one say?—and I shall never see you more."
This trouble of parting near at hand had already arisen, and half-spoilt McKay's delight at the prospect of sailing for the East.
"Do you think I shall ever forget you? If I go, it will be to win promotion, fame—a better, higher, more honourable position for you to share."
It was at this moment that La Zandunga interrupted the lovers with her resonant, unpleasant voice.
"My aunt! my aunt! Run, Stanislas! do not let her see you, in Heaven's name!"
The Serjeant disappeared promptly, but the old virago caught a glimpse of his retreating figure.
"With whom were you gossiping there, good-for-nothing?" cried La Zandunga, fiercely. "I seemed to catch the colour of his coat. If I thought it was that son of Satan, the serjeant, who is ever philandering and following you about—Who was it, I say?"