Truth to tell, Tony was handsome.
Also truth to tell, he had fallen in love with Marie. And love, the conqueror, had even whispered to him to turn traitor to his country, and enlist in the ranks of the army, and, it need not be said, the ranks of the glorious 11th. Then he would be near her—then, perhaps, he should some day marry her. And he might become a general. And she—she would be the general’s lady. “Why not?” He was honest (except in the matter of patriotism), good-humored, and handsome—why should she not fall in love with him?
But seeing the sergeant and Marie returning, he ran to shelter and to shadow immediately.
“Well, but Sulpice,—why not say it as we walked along? What need to come to this quiet spot as you call it?”
“Because I want to speak to you in private.”
“Attention!”
“You are a fine tall girl, and you are handsome.”
“Is that what you want to tell me in private. Why I’m told so fifty times a day.”
“And——”
“Oh there’s an end!”