"Ah, M. Gerald, I was not mistaken in you, I see," said the commander, hurriedly. "You are kind as a brother to my poor boy—but here he is—don't let him suspect anything."
And the good man began to smoke his pipe with the most unconcerned air imaginable, though he was obliged furtively to dash a tear from out the corner of his eye, while Gerald to divert his former comrade's suspicions still more effectually, cried:
"So you've got here at last, slow-coach! I'm strongly inclined to think you must have fallen in with some pretty barmaid like that handsome Jewess at Oran. Do you remember her, you gay Lothario?"
"She was a beauty, that's a fact," replied the young soldier, smiling at the recollection thus evoked, "but she couldn't hold a candle to the young girl I just met in the courtyard," replied Olivier, setting the dusty bottle of Cyprian wine carefully on the table.
"Ah, your prolonged stay is easily explained now!" retorted Gerald.
"Just hear the coxcomb," chimed in the veteran. "And who is this beauty?"
"Yes, yes, do give us the particulars of your conquest."
"She would suit you wonderfully well, M. le duc," laughed Olivier, "wonderfully well, for she is a duchess."
"A duchess?" queried Gerald.
"A duchess here!" exclaimed the commander. "The locality is indeed honoured, to-day. This is something new."