You look ill," she said gently, and there was, for a moment, less of that accent in her voice, which the night before had marked so distinctly, so pointedly, the line of demarcation between a Princess of Spain and a soldier of Africa.
"I thank you; I ail nothing." He had no sense that he did, in the presence of that face which had the beauty of his old life; under the charm of that voice which had the music of his buried years.
"I fear that is scarcely true!" she answered him.

"You look in pain; though as a soldier, perhaps, you will not own it ?" "A headache from the sun--no more, madame." He was careful not again to forget the social gulf which yawned between them.
"That is quite bad enough! Your service must be severe ?" "In Africa, Milady, one cannot expect indulgence." "I suppose not.

You have served long ?" "Twelve years, madame." "And your name ?" "Louis Victor." She fancied there was a slight abruptness in the reply, as though he were about to add some other name, and checked himself.
She entered it in the little book from which she had taken her banknotes.
"I may be able to serve you," she said, as she wrote.

"I will speak of you to the Marshal; and when I return to Paris, I may have an opportunity to bring your name before the Emperor.

He is as rapid as his uncle to reward military merit; but he has not his uncle's opportunities for personal observation of his soldiers." The color flushed his forehead.
"You do me much honor," he said rapidly, "but if you would gratify me, madame, do not seek to do anything of the kind." "And why?
Do you not even desire the cross ?" "I desire nothing, except to be forgotten." "You seek what others dread then ?" "It may be so.