“Yes, sir.”
“Assuredly!” says the Captain; “do not think, chere ma’m’selle, that I am very much cast down. I am so far from that, I assure you, that I am ready to take the field again.”
“Well, sir.”
“Then you will bet again, madam?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Bien! I now stake all that is left me in the world—though not quite. I stake my horse, Selim, against the curl and the pair of gloves you wear, with the knot of ribbons at your girdle thrown in—all upon the final issue.”
Henrietta blushes; for, however common such gallant proposals were at that day, she cannot misunderstand the meaning of the soldier’s glance, and reddens beneath it.
“That would be unfair, sir.”
“Not so, my dear madam, for are you not sure to lose?”
“To lose?”