"Madame," said he with emphasis, "I will admit that my uncalled-for entrance here was certainly quite wrong, but you ought not to consider it in the light of an offence."
"I hope so," replied the companion respectfully, "and I am ready to look for any proofs thereof."
The Zouave again looked down quite abashed.
"It passed previously through my head," he commenced, rather discouraged, "that you perhaps would show a little interest for me—"
"Always worse—you are getting impertinent!"
"No, no, madame, that I am not; only allow me to explain. Consider, I am a soldier; the regiment is my home, and I have neither father nor mother who care for me. Taking it all in all, I do not mind that; I fight with the Kabyles, and when one day my end approaches, nobody will have to mourn for me. But you appear to me so kind and trustworthy, that Satan urged me on, and as I shall probably never see you again—"
"Ah, and why not?"
"I bid you farewell, for to-morrow morning it will be all over."
"Well, not so hasty; don't jump immediately from one extreme to another," scolded Madame Caraman, who against her own desire felt some sympathy, although she tried to hide it; "tell me now exactly the whole proceeding; otherwise you seem to be a brave fellow, and it would be a pity for the uniform you wear were it not so. Well, then, speak out; what is the matter to-morrow?"