Marcel was a graceless scamp, but I always envied his skill at saying things which fitted the matter in hand.
Our shot-riddled party had now come up, and while the colonel and the major were receiving the full story from Barton, I found myself for a few moments the only attendant upon Miss Desmond.
"Since I can now do it without risk of sudden death, our friend Lieutenant Belfort being absent, I assure you again that your countrymen showed great bravery and military skill in our action with them," I said.
"The appearance of your column," she replied, looking pityingly at the wounded soldiers, "is proof that you came off none too well."
"It would be better," I said, "to avow the full truth, that we were sadly beaten."
"Lieutenant Melville," she said, "why are you so quick in the defence and even the praise of the rebels? Such is not the custom of most of the British officers. It seems strange to me."
"Does it seem more strange," I asked, "than the fact that you, an American, espouse the cause of the British?"
The question appeared to cause her some embarrassment. Her lip quivered, and an unusual though very becoming redness came into her face. But in a moment she recovered her self-possession.
"If you had been born an American, Lieutenant Melville," she asked, "would you have fought with the Americans?"
"The question is unfair," I answered hastily.