'Célandine—Célandine de Caillé.'
'Well, I cannot say it is droll. I think it very pretty.'
'Your little rebuke is a just one, Monsieur,' said the smiling old gentleman, who, had Charlie been a genuine Prussian, would little have relished all this conversation between him and his daughter.
'We shall be very good friends, I doubt not, for to-night, at least, Monsieur.'
'Only for to-night?'
'To-morrow shall relieve you of our hateful presence, as we shall probably move against Metz.'
'Don't say "hateful," Monsieur, when we owe you so much, and esteem you so much,' urged Célandine.
'Ernestine will never have a rival, even here,' thought Charlie, as he begged them to excuse him, as he had to go his rounds, and, with his sergeant, post fresh sentinels.
That duty done, he undid his belt, but without undressing, threw himself on a sofa, and, utterly exhausted and worn out by the whole events of the day, oblivious of the presence of Mademoiselle de Caillé and her father in the dining-room, he slept as soundly as Hood's old woman,
'Who might have worn a percussion cap,
And been knocked on the head without hearing it snap.'