"What though I have thrown behind me an illustrious life, titles, honors, pleasures, for to give these dogs my nameless services?
"Where Colonel Brand, the lion of chivalry raged, was not I, Colonel Calembours, ever at his side, the unwearied partner of the perilous speculation?
"But when I fall under the blind displeasure of the stupid bureau at Washington, justice, nay, honesty, is forgotten—they mulct me of my laurels.
"I go to New York, and turn into a dealer for horseflesh for the army. In a few weeks I fill my wrinkled purse, and get rid of the last of my consignment; and, before the wretched brutes have time to betray their many infirmities, New York in turn loses Calembours. But ere I leave I have the satisfaction of again greeting my invalid friend, who has been sent North to a better hospital, and who is gradually convalescing. He urges me to stay with him, that we may begin the world together; but I have a sacred duty to perform, a slight to remember, an insult to avenge. I am free, I have money, I have health, and I come here, to this Castle Brand, to see mademoiselle, and (for revenge) to sell to her—a secret."
The chevalier paused with empressement, and remained peering into his listener's face with a gay, encouraging smile for two or three minutes.
Whiter Margaret could not be, nor colder.
"Proceed, monsieur," she breathed at last; "do not mock my anxiety."
"Mademoiselle understands that what follows is for sale?" quoth the chevalier slyly.
"Yes, yes, you shall be satisfied. Proceed."
"Mille mercies, dear mademoiselle. Eh, bien! I will do myself the honor to keep you au courant with my history. History pleases mademoiselle; she is a good listener—ma foi! a very good listener.