"Oliver—Oliver Ellis."
"Très bon—Oliver—good; I shall treasure that in my heart of hearts!"
"And your surname?"
"Oh, you pertinacious and provoking one! Know then, that, to my misfortune, I am named Eulalie de Rouvigny."
"Surely I have heard this name before?" said I, starting, and endeavouring to remember.
"Very probably; it is the name of a well-known French officer, who commands in Martinique."
"The Colonel de Rouvigny, chef de bataillon of a revolted regiment?"
"The same."
"True—I now remember—a pretty name," said I, taking her hand again and kissing it; "and yours is Eulalie—that is charming! Is the colonel any relation? I should hope not, as we may be fighting with him in the course of next week."
"Ah, no," she replied with a shudder, "no relation."