"Pardon, caballero," said the marchioness to him making an effort to continue the conversation, in the hope of seeing a favourable light burst upon the chaos which surrounded her; "one word, if you please."
"One word let it be," answered he, stopping, "but no more."
"Do you know why we are to quit the camp?"
"Upon my word, no; what is it to me whether you leave or not?"
"That is true—it must be quite indifferent to you; but you are, I believe, one of your brother's principal officers?"
"I am a captain," he answered, holding himself up proudly.
"In that capacity you must be in the confidence of your brother's projects, so as to know what are his intentions."
"I! What for? My brother does not render account to me, and I do not ask any."
The marchioness bit her lips with vexation; but she continued, abruptly changing the conversation—
"If I am so soon to leave the camp, permit me, caballero, to offer you, before leaving, this slight mark of remembrance;" and taking from her breast a delicate reliquary in gold, curiously chased, she presented it to him with a gracious smile.