It was very singular; a mingling of colored glass, silver, gold, and ivory being wrought in much beauty in its formation.
"Is that for sale ?" she inquired.
As he answered in the affirmative, she moved up the shop, and, her eyes being lifted to the lamp, had drawn close to Cecil before she saw him.
When she did so, she paused near in astonishment.
"Is that soldier asleep ?" "He is, madame," softly answered the old man, in his slow, studied French.

"He comes here to rest sometimes out of the noise; he was very tired to-day, and I think ill, would he have confessed it." "Indeed!" Her eyes fell on him with compassion; he had fallen into an attitude of much grace and of utter exhaustion; his head was uncovered and rested on one arm, so that the face was turned upward.

With a woman's rapid, comprehensive glance, she saw that dark shadow, like a bruise, under his closed, aching eyes; she saw the weary pain upon his forehead; she saw the whiteness of his hands, the slenderness of his wrists, the softness of his hair; she saw, as she had seen before, that whatever he might be now, in some past time he had been a man of gentle blood, of courtly bearing.
"He is a Chasseur d'Afrique ?" she asked the Moslem.
"Yes, madame.

I think--he must have been something very different some day." She did not answer; she stood with her thoughtful eyes gazing on the worn-out soldier.
"He saved me once, madame, at much risk to himself, from the savagery of some Turcos," the old man went on.

"Of course, he is always welcome under my roof.