"Trusia" of the marvelous eyes. "Trusia" of the ensnaring hair. "Trusia" the beloved, the desirable.
"So you haven't forgotten your Latin, after all," Zulka was saying, leisurely dismounting from his horse.
"But I have," answered Carter. "What does it all mean?"
"Your commission, man. Major of the Royal Hussars. For the present attached to Her Grace, as Aide. I congratulate you."
"Don't, Paul; not yet. It is going to be all the harder for me."
Zulka nodded his head gravely. "You'd better fight at close range. It is harder, but quicker."
He noted Calvert's riding costume at a glance and made a sudden resolve.
"Better take a ride, old chap. Get yourself in condition. I'm busy to-day. Borrow Casimir's horse—he's off for the morning. I think Natalie will be out on the road this way. She'd appreciate your escort, I'll wager. We creep a step nearer the city this morning, and as Division Adjutant I'll have my hands full.
"Here, Casimir," he called to the equerry who was lazily swinging his feet over the edge of the porch on which he had seated himself, "lend Major Carter your mount for this morning, can't you?"
"Gladly. Saral is the right sort and I guess bears him no ill will for yesterday's stampede."