The General's eyes twinkled at the boyishness of the remark. He knew a horse as well as another, Vieux César, and to describe the superb Arab before him as being, perhaps, not unworthy of being seen in company with his own sturdy charger was a bit of satire much to his relish.
"Merci!" he answered. "It is the proposal of an officer and a gentleman. But my daughter must decide if it is possible for us to accept it. In the matter of names, monsieur, you have me at an advantage."
"Pardon!" said the other. "I should have realized that. I am Eugène Drouin, lieutenant of the 29th Chasseurs."
"Natalie!" cried the General, beckoning with his crop.
As Mademoiselle Tournadour came forward, the young chasseur again made a confidant of himself, this time for the satisfaction of observing that he was an imbecile, and that a man who could not tell at the first glance whether or not a woman was entirely beautiful, deserved not to have an opportunity of discovering the fact at all. Their eyes met fairly, his glowing with delighted surprise, hers touched with that expression of negative inquiry and polite interest which immediately precedes an introduction.
"My daughter," said the General, prodding the air with his crop in her direction. "Lieutenant Drouin, of the 29th Chasseurs," he added, prodding again, in the direction of Eugène. "Monsieur le lieutenant has been so kind as to offer thee the use of his own horse, and suggests that we leave Le Cid here to be cared for until I can send Victor for him. I tell him thou art the one to decide."
"Monsieur, you are truly kind," said the girl easily—too easily, thought Eugène!—"but it would be to presume upon your generosity."
"But it is nothing," protested the officer. "Voyons! It is but a step to La Muette, and there I have the Ceinture!"
"You are stationed at the quartier de cavalerie?" asked Tournadour.