attachment.
For
it
was
true
,
as
Cecil
divined
,
that
the
dark
cloud
under
which
his
memory
had
passed
to
all
in
England
had
never
been
seen
by
her
eyes
,
from
which
,
in
childhood
,
it
had
been
screened
,
and
,
in
womanhood
,
withheld
,
because
his
name
had
been
absolutely
forgotten
by
all
save
the
Seraph
,
to
whom
it
had
been
fraught
with
too
much
pain
for
its
utterance
to
be
ever
voluntary
.
"
What
is
it
you
fear
from
Philip
?
"
she
asked
him
,
at
last
,
when
she
had
waited
vainly
for
him
to
break
the
silence
.
"
You
can
remember
him
but
ill
if
you
think
that
there
will
be
anything
in
his
heart
save
joy
when
he
shall
know
that
you
are
living
.
You
little
dream
how
dear
your
memory
is
to
him
—
—
"
He
paused
before
her
abruptly
.
"
Hush
,
hush
!
or
you
will
kill
me
!
Why
!
—
three
nights
ago
I
fled
the
camp
as
men
flee
pestilence
,
because
I
saw
his
face
in
the
light
of
the
bivouac-fire
and
dreaded
that
he
should
so
see
mine
!
"
She
gazed
at
him
in
troubled
amaze
;
there
was
that
in
the
passionate
agitation
of
this
man
who
had
been
serene
through
so
much
danger
,
and
unmoved
beneath
so
much
disaster
,
that
startled
and
bewildered
her
.
"
You
fled
from
Philip
?
Ah
!
how
you
must
wrong
him
!
What
will
it
matter
to
him
whether
you
be
prince
or
trooper
,
wear
a
peer
's
robes
or
a
soldier
's
uniform
?
His
friendship
never
yet
was
given
to
externals
.
But
—
stay
!
—
that
reminds
me
of
your
inheritance
.
Do
you
know
that
Lord
Royallieu
is
dead
?
that
your
younger
brother
bears
the
title
,
thinking
you
perished
at
Marseilles
?
He
was
here
with
me
yesterday
;
he
has
come
to
Algeria
for
the
autumn
.
Whatever
your
motive
may
have
been
to
remain
thus
hidden
from
us
all
,
you
must
claim
your
own
rights
now
.
You
must
go
back
to
all
that
is
so
justly
yours
.
Whatever
your
reason
be
to
have
borne
with
all
the
suffering
and
the
indignity
that
have
been
your
portion
here
,
they
will
be
ended
now
.
"
Her
beauty
had
never
struck
him
so
intensely
as
at
this
moment
,
when
,
in
urging
him
to
the
demand
of
his
rights
,
she
so
unconsciously
tempted
him
to
betray
his
brother
and
to
forsake
his
word
.
The
indifference
and
the
careless
coldness
that
had
to
so
many
seemed
impenetrable
and
unalterable
in
her
were
broken
and
had
changed
to
the
warmth
of
sympathy
,
of
interest
,
of
excitation
.
There
was
a
world
of
feeling
in
her
face
,
of
eloquence
in
her
eyes
,
as
she
stooped
slightly
forward
with
the
rich
glow
of
the
cashmeres
about
her
,
and
the
sun-gleam
falling
across
her
brow
.
Pure
,
and
proud
,
and
noble
in
every
thought
,
and
pressing
on
him
only
what
was
the
due
of
his
birth
and
his
heritage
,
she
yet
unwittingly
tempted
him
with
as
deadly
a
power
as
though
she
were
the
vilest
of
her
sex
,
seducing
him
downward
to
some
infamous
dishonour
.
To
do
what
she
said
would
be
but
his
actual
right
,
and
would
open
to
him
a
future
so
fair
that
his
heart
grew
sick
with
longing
for
it
;
and
yet
to
yield
,
and
to
claim
justice
for
himself
,
was
forbidden
him
as
utterly
as
though
it
were
some
murderous
guilt
.
He
had
promised
never
to
sacrifice
his
brother
;
the
promise
held
him
like
the
fetters
of
a
galley
.
"
Why
do
you
not
answer
me
?
"
she
pursued
,
whilst
she
leaned
nearer
with
wonder
,
and
doubt
,
and
a
certain
awakening
dread
shadowing
the
blue
lustre
of
her
eyes
that
were
bent
so
thoughtfully
,
so
searchingly
,
upon
him
.
"
Is
it
possible
that
you
have
heard
of
your
inheritance
,
of
your
title
and
estates
,
and
that
you
voluntarily
remain
a
soldier
here
?
Lord
Royallieu
must
yield
them
the
instant
you
prove
your
identity
,
and
in
that
there
could
be
no
difficulty
.
I
remember
you
well
now
,
and
Philip
,
I
am
certain
,
will
only
need
to
see
you
once
to
—
—
"
"
Hush
,
for
pity
's
sake
!
Have
you
never
heard
—
have
none
ever
told
you
—
—
"
"
What
?
"
Her
face
grew
paler
with
a
vague
sense
of
fear
;
she
knew
that
he
had
been
equable
and
resolute
under
the
severest
tests
that
could
try
the
strength
and
the
patience
of
man
,
and
she
knew
,
therefore
,
that
no
slender
thing
could
agitate
and
could
unman
him
thus
.
"
What
is
it
I
should
have
heard
?
"
she
asked
him
,
as
he
kept
his
silence
.
He
turned
from
her
so
that
she
could
not
see
his
face
.
"
That
,
when
I
became
dead
to
the
world
,
I
died
with
the
taint
of
crime
on
me
!
"
"
Of
crime
?
"
An
intense
horror
thrilled
through
the
echo
of
the
word
;
but
she
rose
,
and
moved
,
and
faced
him
with
the
fearless
resolve
of
a
woman
whom
no
half-truth
would
blind
,
and
no
shadowy
terror
appal
.
"
Of
crime
?
What
crime
?
"
Then
,
and
then
only
,
he
looked
at
her
,
a
strange
,
fixed
,
hopeless
,
yet
serence
look
,
that
she
knew
no
criminal
ever
would
or
could
have
given
.
"
I
was
accused
of
having
forged
your
brother
's
name
.
"
A
faint
cry
escaped
her
;
her
lips
grew
white
,
and
her
eyes
darkened
and
dilated
.
"
Accused
!
But
wrongfully
?
"
His
breath
came
and
went
in
quick
sharp
spasms
.
"
I
could
not
prove
that
.
"
"
Not
prove
it
?
Why
?
"
"
I
could
not
.
"
"
But
he
—
Philip
—
never
believed
you
guilty
?
"
"
I
cannot
tell
.
He
may
;
he
must
.
"
"
But
you
are
not
!
"
It
was
not
an
interrogation
,
but
an
affirmation
that
rang
out
in
the
silver
clearness
of
her
voice
.
There
was
not
a
single
intonation
of
doubt
in
it
;
there
was
rather
a
haughty
authority
that
forbade
even
himself
to
say
that
one
of
his
race
and
that
one
of
his
order
could
have
been
capable
of
such
ignoble
and
craven
sin
.
His
mouth
quivered
,
a
bitter
sigh
broke
from
him
;
he
turned
his
eyes
on
her
with
a
look
that
pierced
her
to
the
heart
.
"
Think
me
guilty
or
guiltless
,
as
you
will
;
I
cannot
answer
you
.
"
His
last
words
were
suffocated
with
the
supreme
anguish
of
their
utterance
.
As
she
heard
it
,
the
generosity
,
the
faith
,
the
inherent
justice
,
and
the
intrinsic
sweetness
that
were
latent
in
her
beneath
the
negligence
and
the
chillness
of
external
semblance
rose
at
once
to
reject
the
baser
,
to
accept
the
nobler
,
belief
offered
to
her
choice
.
She
had
lived
much
in
the
world
,
but
it
had
not
corroded
her
;
she
had
acquired
keen
discernment
from
it
,
but
she
had
preserved
all
the
courageous
and
the
chivalrous
instincts
of
her
superb
nature
.
She
looked
at
him
now
,
and
stretched
her
hands
out
towards
him
with
a
royal
and
gracious
gesture
of
infinite
eloquence
.
"
You
are
guiltless
,
whatever
circumstance
may
have
arrayed
against
you
,
whatever
shadow
of
evil
may
have
fallen
falsely
on
you
.
Is
it
not
so
?
"
He
bowed
his
head
low
over
her
hands
as
he
took
them
.
In
that
moment
half
the
bitterness
of
his
doom
passed
from
him
;
he
had
at
least
her
faith
.
But
his
face
was
bloodless
as
that
of
a
corpse
,
and
the
loud
beatings
of
his
heart
were
audible
on
the
stillness
.
This
faith
must
live
on
without
one
thing
to
show
that
he
deserved
it
;
if
,
in
time
to
come
,
it
should
waver
and
fall
,
and
leave
him
in
the
darkness
of
the
foul
suspicion
under
which
he
dwelt
,
what
wonder
would
there
be
?
He
lifted
his
head
and
looked
her
full
in
the
eyes
;
her
own
closed
involuntarily
,
and
filled
with
tears
.
She
felt
that
the
despair
and
the
patience
of
that
look
would
haunt
her
until
her
dying
day
.
"
I
was
guiltless
;
but
none
could
credit
it
then
;
none
would
do
so
now
;
nor
can
I
seek
to
make
them
.
Ask
me
no
more
;
give
me
your
belief
,
if
you
can
—
God
knows
what
precious
mercy
it
is
to
me
;
but
leave
me
to
fulfil
my
fate
,
and
tell
no
living
creature
what
I
have
told
you
now
.
"
The
great
tears
stood
in
her
eyes
,
and
blinded
her
as
she
heard
.
Even
in
the
amaze
and
the
vagueness
of
this
first
knowledge
of
the
cause
of
his
exile
she
felt
instinctively
,
as
the
Little
One
also
had
done
,
that
some
great
sacrifice
,
some
great
fortitude
and
generosity
,
lay
within
this
sealed
secret
of
his
súfferance
of
wrong
.
She
knew
,
too
,
that
it
would
be
useless
to
seek
to
learn
that
which
he
had
chosen
to
conceal
;
that
for
no
slender
cause
could
he
have
come
out
to
lead
this
life
of
whose
sufferings
she
could
gauge
the
measure
;
that
nothing
save
some
absolute
and
imperative
reason
could
have
driven
him
to
accept
such
living
death
as
was
his
doom
in
Africa
.
"
Tell
no
one
!
"
she
echoed
.
"
What
!
not
Philip
even
?
not
your
oldest
friend
?
Ah
!
be
sure
,
whatever
the
evidence
might
be
against
you
,
his
heart
never
condemned
you
for
one
instant
.
"
"
I
believe
it
.
Yet
all
you
can
do
for
me
,
all
I
implore
you
to
do
for
me
,
is
to
keep
silence
for
ever
on
my
name
.
To-day
,
accident
has
made
me
break
a
vow
I
never
thought
but
to
keep
sacred
.
When
you
recognised
me
,
I
could
not
deny
myself
,
I
could
not
lie
to
you
;
but
,
for
God
's
sake
,
tell
none
of
what
has
passed
between
us
!
"
"
But
why
?
"
she
pursued
—
"
why
?
You
lie
under
this
charge
still
—
you
cannot
disprove
it
,
you
say
;
but
why
not
come
out
before
the
world
,
and
state
to
all
what
you
swear
now
to
me
,
and
claim
your
right
to
bear
your
father
's
honours
?
If
you
were
falsely
accused
,
there
must
have
been
some
guilty
in
your
stead
;
and
if
—
—
"
"
Cease
,
for
pity
's
sake
!
Forget
I
ever
told
you
I
was
guiltless
!
Blot
my
memory
out
;
think
of
me
as
dead
,
as
I
have
been
,
till
your
eyes
called
me
back
to
life
.
Think
that
I
am
branded
with
the
theft
of
your
brother
's
name
;
think
that
I
am
vile
,
and
shameless
,
and
fallen
as
the
lowest
wretch
that
pollutes
this
army
;
think
of
me
as
what
you
will
,
but
not
as
innocent
!
"
The
words
broke
out
in
a
torrent
from
him
,
bearing
down
with
them
all
his
self-control
,
as
the
rush
of
waters
bears
away
all
barriers
that
have
long
dammed
their
course
.
They
were
wild
,
passionate
,
incoherent
;
unlike
any
that
had
ever
passed
his
lips
,
or
been
poured
out
in
her
presence
.
He
felt
mad
with
the
struggle
that
tore
him
asunder
,
the
longing
to
tell
the
truth
to
her
,
though
he
should
never
after
look
upon
her
face
again
,
and
the
honour
which
bound
silence
on
him
for
sake
of
the
man
whom
he
had
sworn
under
no
temptation
to
dispossess
and
to
betray
.
She
heard
him
silently
,
with
her
grand
meditative
eyes
,
in
which
the
slow
tears
still
floated
,
fixed
upon
him
.
Most
women
would
have
thought
that
conscious
guilt
spoke
in
the
violence
of
his
self-accusation
:
she
did
not
.
Her
intuition
was
too
fine
,
her
sympathies
too
true
.
She
felt
that
he
feared
,
not
that
she
should
unjustly
think
him
guilty
,
but
that
she
should
justly
think
him
guiltless
.
She
knew
that
this
,
whatever
its
root
might
be
,
was
the
fear
of
the
stainless
,
not
of
the
criminal
life
.
"
I
hear
you
,
"
she
answered
him
,
gently
;
"
but
I
do
not
believe
you
,
even
against
yourself
.
The
man
whom
Philip
loved
and
honoured
never
sank
to
the
base
fraud
of
a
thief
.
"
Her
glorious
eyes
were
still
on
him
as
she
spoke
,
seeming
to
read
his
very
soul
.
Under
that
glance
all
the
manhood
,
all
the
race
,
all
the
pride
,
and
the
love
,
and
the
courage
within
him
refused
to
bear
in
her
sight
the
shame
of
an
alien
crime
,
and
rose
in
revolt
to
fling
off
the
bondage
that
forced
him
to
stand
as
a
criminal
before
the
noble
gaze
of
this
woman
.
His
eyes
met
hers
full
,
and
rested
on
them
without
wavering
;
his
head
was
raised
,
and
his
carriage
had
a
fearless
dignity
.
"
No.
I
was
innocent
.
But
in
honour
I
must
bear
the
yoke
that
I
took
on
me
long
ago
:
in
honour
I
can
never
give
you
or
any
living
soul
the
proof
that
this
crime
was
not
mine
.
I
thought
that
I
should
go
to
my
grave
without
any
ever
hearing
of
the
years
that
I
have
passed
in
Africa
,
without
any
ever
learning
the
name
I
used
to
bear
.
As
it
is
,
all
I
can
ask
is
now
—
to
be
forgotten
.
"
His
voice
fell
before
the
last
words
,
and
faltered
over
them
.
It
was
bitter
to
ask
only
for
oblivion
from
the
woman
whom
he
loved
with
all
the
strength
of
a
sudden
passion
born
in
utter
hopelessness
;
—
the
woman
whose
smile
,
whose
beauty
,
whose
love
might
even
possibly
have
been
won
as
his
own
in
the
future
,
if
he
could
have
claimed
his
birthright
.
So
bitter
,
that
rather
than
have
spoken
those
words
of
resignation
he
would
have
been
led
out
by
a
platoon
of
his
own
soldiery
and
shot
in
the
autumn
sunlight
beside
Rake
's
grave
.
"
You
ask
what
will
not
be
mine
to
give
,
"
she
answered
him
,
while
a
great
weariness
stole
through
her
own
words
,
for
she
was
bewildered
,
and
pained
,
and
oppressed
with
a
new
strange
sense
of
helplessness
before
this
man
's
nameless
suffering
.
"
Remember
—
I
knew
you
so
well
in
my
earliest
years
,
and
you
are
so
dear
to
the
one
dearest
to
me
.
It
will
not
be
possible
to
forget
such
a
meeting
as
this
.
Silence
,
of
course
,
you
can
command
from
me
,
if
you
insist
on
it
;
but
—
—
"
"
I
command
nothing
from
you
;
but
I
implore
it
.
It
is
the
sole
mercy
you
can
show
.
Never
,
for
God
's
sake
!
speak
of
me
to
your
brother
or
to
mine
.
"
"
Do
you
so
mistrust
Philip
's
affection
?
"
"
No.
It
is
because
I
trust
it
too
entirely
.
"
"
Too
entirely
to
do
what
?
"
"
To
deal
it
fruitless
pain
.
As
you
love
him
—
as
you
pity
me
—
pray
that
he
and
I
never
meet
!
"
"
But
why
?
if
all
this
could
be
cleared
—
—
"
"
It
never
can
be
.
"
The
baffled
sense
of
impotence
against
the
granite
wall
of
some
immovable
calamity
which
she
had
felt
before
came
on
her
.
She
had
been
always
used
to
be
obeyed
,
followed
,
and
caressed
;
to
see
obstacles
crumble
,
difficulties
disappear
,
before
her
wish
;
she
had
not
been
tried
by
any
sorrow
,
save
when
,
a
mere
child
still
,
she
felt
the
pain
of
her
father
's
death
;
she
had
been
lapped
in
softest
luxury
,
crowned
with
easiest
victory
.
The
sense
that
here
there
was
a
tragedy
whose
meaning
she
could
not
reach
,
that
there
was
here
a
fate
that
she
could
not
change
or
soften
,
brought
a
strange
unfamiliar
feeling
of
weakness
before
a
hopeless
and
cruel
doom
that
was
no
more
to
be
altered
by
her
will
than
the
huge
bare
rocks
of
Africa
out
yonder
in
the
glare
of
noon
were
to
be
lifted
by
her
hand
.
For
she
knew
that
this
man
,
who
made
so
light
of
perils
that
would
have
chilled
many
to
the
soul
in
terror
,
and
who
bore
so
quiet
and
serene
a
habit
beneath
the
sharpest
stings
and
hardest
blows
of
his
adversities
,
would
not
speak
thus
without
full
warrant
,
would
not
consign
himself
to
this
renunciation
of
every
hope
,
unless
he
were
compelled
to
it
by
a
destiny
from
which
there
was
no
escape
.
She
was
silent
some
moments
,
her
eyes
resting
on
him
with
that
grave
and
luminous
regard
which
no
man
had
ever
charged
to
one
more
tender
or
less
calmly
contemplative
.
He
had
risen
again
,
and
paced
to
and
fro
the
narrow
chamber
,
his
head
bent
down
,
his
chest
rising
and
falling
with
the
laboured
,
quickened
breath
.
He
had
thought
that
the
hour
in
which
his
brother
's
ingratitude
had
pierced
his
heart
had
been
the
greatest
suffering
he
had
ever
known
,
or
ever
could
know
;
but
a
greater
had
waited
on
him
here
,
in
the
fate
to
which
the
jewelled
toy
that
he
had
lifted
from
the
water
had
accidentally
led
him
,
not
dreaming
to
what
he
came
.
"
Lord
Royallieu
,
"
she
said
,
softly
,
at
length
,
while
she
rose
and
moved
towards
him
,
the
scarlet
of
the
trailing
cashmeres
gathering
dark
ruby
lights
in
them
as
they
caught
sun
and
shadow
;
and
at
the
old
name
,
uttered
in
her
voice
,
he
started
,
and
turned
,
and
looked
at
her
as
though
he
saw
some
ghost
of
his
past
life
rise
from
its
grave
.
"
Why
look
at
me
so
?
"
she
pursued
ere
he
could
speak
.
"
Act
how
you
will
,
you
cannot
change
the
fact
that
you
are
the
bearer
of
your
father
's
title
.
So
long
as
you
live
,
your
brother
Berkeley
can
never
take
it
legally
.
You
may
be
a
Chasseur
of
the
African
Army
,
but
none
the
less
are
you
a
Peer
of
England
.
"
"
What
matter
that
?
"
he
muttered
.
"
Why
tell
me
that
?
I
have
said
I
am
dead
.
Leave
me
buried
here
,
and
let
him
enjoy
what
he
may
—
what
he
can
.
"
"
But
this
is
folly
—
madness
—
—
"
"
No
;
it
is
neither
.
I
have
told
you
I
should
stand
as
a
felon
in
the
eyes
of
the
English
law
;
I
should
have
no
civil
rights
;
the
greatest
mercy
fate
can
show
me
is
to
let
me
remain
forgotten
here
.
It
will
not
be
long
,
most
likely
,
before
I
am
thrust
into
the
African
sand
,
to
rot
like
that
brave
soul
out
yonder
.
Berkeley
will
be
the
lawful
holder
of
the
title
then
;
leave
him
in
peace
and
possession
now
.
"
He
spoke
the
words
out
to
the
end
—
calmly
,
and
with
unfaltering
resolve
.
But
she
saw
the
great
dews
gather
on
his
temples
,
where
silver
threads
were
just
glistening
among
the
bright
richness
of
his
hair
,
and
she
heard
the
short
,
low
,
convulsive
breathing
with
which
his
chest
heaved
as
he
spoke
.
She
stood
close
beside
him
,
and
gazed
once
more
full
in
his
eyes
,
while
the
sweet
imperious
cadence
of
her
voice
answered
him
:
"
There
is
more
than
I
know
of
here
.
Either
you
are
the
greatest
madman
,
or
the
most
generous
man
that
ever
lived
.
You
choose
to
guard
your
own
secret
;
I
will
not
seek
to
persuade
it
from
you
.
But
tell
me
one
thing
—
why
do
you
thus
abjure
your
rights
,
permit
a
false
charge
to
rest
on
you
,
and
consign
yourself
for
ever
to
this
cruel
agony
?
"
His
lips
shook
under
his
beard
as
he
answered
her
:
"
Because
I
can
do
no
less
in
honour
.
For
God
's
sake
do
not
you
tempt
me
!
"
A
quick
deep
sigh
escaped
her
as
she
heard
,
her
face
grew
very
pale
as
it
had
done
before
,
and
she
moved
slightly
from
him
.
"
Forgive
me
,
"
she
said
,
after
a
long
pause
.
"
I
will
never
ask
you
that
again
.
"
She
could
honour
honour
too
well
,
and
too
well
divine
all
that
he
suffered
for
its
sake
,
ever
to
become
his
temptress
in
bidding
him
forsake
it
;
yet
,
with
a
certain
weariness
,
a
certain
dread
,
wholly
unfamiliar
to
him
,
she
realised
that
what
he
had
chosen
was
the
choice
not
of
his
present
or
of
his
future
.
It
could
have
no
concern
for
her
,
—
save
that
long
years
ago
he
had
been
the
best-beloved
friend
of
her
best-beloved
relative
—
whether
or
no
he
remained
lost
to
all
the
world
under
the
unknown
name
of
a
French
Chasseur
.
And
yet
it
smote
her
with
a
certain
dull
unanalysed
pain
;
it
gave
her
a
certain
emotion
of
powerlessness
and
of
hopelessness
to
realise
that
he
would
remain
all
his
years
through
,
until
an
Arab
's
shot
should
set
him
free
,
under
this
bondage
of
renunciation
,
beneath
this
yoke
of
service
.
She
stood
silent
long
,
leaning
against
the
oval
of
the
casement
,
with
the
sun
shed
over
the
glowing
cashmeres
that
swept
round
her
.
He
stood
apart
in
silence
also
.
What
could
he
say
to
her
?
His
whole
heart
longed
with
an
unutterable
longing
to
tell
her
the
truth
,
and
bid
her
be
his
judge
between
him
and
his
duty
;
but
his
promise
hung
on
him
like
a
leaden
weight
.
He
must
remain
speechless
;
—
and
leave
her
,
for
doubt
to
assail
her
,
and
for
scorn
to
follow
it
in
her
thoughts
of
him
,
if
so
they
would
.
Heavy
as
had
been
the
curse
to
him
of
that
one
hour
in
which
honour
had
forbade
him
to
compromise
a
woman
's
reputation
,
and
old
tenderness
had
forbade
him
to
betray
a
brother
's
sin
,
he
had
never
paid
so
heavy
a
price
for
his
act
as
that
which
he
paid
now
.
Through
the
yellow
sunlight
without
,
over
the
barren
dust-strewn
plains
,
in
the
distance
there
approached
three
riders
,
accompanied
by
a
small
escort
of
Spahis
,
with
their
crimson
burnous
floating
in
the
autumnal
wind
.
She
started
,
and
turned
to
him
:
"
It
is
Philip
!
He
is
coming
for
me
from
your
camp
to-day
.
"
His
eyes
strained
through
the
sun-glare
:
"
Ah
,
God
!
I
cannot
meet
him
—
I
have
not
strength
.
You
do
not
know
—
—
"
"
I
know
how
well
he
loved
you
.
"
"
Not
better
than
I
him
!
But
I
cannot
—
I
dare
not
;
—
unless
I
could
meet
him
as
we
never
shall
meet
upon
earth
,
we
must
be
apart
for
ever
.
For
Heaven
's
sake
promise
me
never
to
speak
my
name
!
"
"
I
promise
until
you
release
me
.
"
"
And
you
can
believe
me
innocent
still
,
in
face
of
all
?
"
She
stretched
her
hands
to
him
once
more
:
"
I
believe
.
For
I
know
what
you
once
were
.
"
Great
burning
tears
fell
from
his
eyes
upon
her
hands
as
he
bent
over
them
:
"
God
bless
you
!
You
were
an
angel
of
pity
to
me
in
your
childhood
;
in
your
womanhood
you
give
me
the
only
mercy
I
have
known
since
the
last
day
you
looked
upon
my
face
!
We
shall
be
far
sundered
for
ever
;
—
may
I
come
to
you
once
more
?
"
She
paused
in
hesitation
and
in
thought
awhile
,
while
for
the
first
time
in
all
her
years
a
tremulous
tenderness
passed
over
her
face
;
she
felt
an
unutterable
pity
for
this
man
,
and
for
his
doom
.
Then
she
drew
her
hands
gently
away
from
him
:
"
Yes
,
I
will
see
you
again
.
"
So
much
concession
to
such
a
prayer
Venetia
Corona
had
never
before
given
.
He
could
not
command
his
voice
to
answer
,
but
he
bowed
low
before
her
as
before
an
empress
:
—
another
moment
,
and
she
was
alone
.
She
stood
looking
out
at
the
wide
level
country
beyond
,
with
the
glare
of
the
white
strong
light
and
the
red
burnous
of
the
Franco-Arabs
glowing
against
the
blue
but
cloudless
sky
;
she
thought
that
she
must
be
dreaming
some
fantastic
story
born
of
these
desert
solitudes
.
Yet
her
eyes
were
dim
with
tears
,
and
her
heart
ached
with
another
's
woe
.
Doubt
of
him
never
came
to
her
;
but
there
was
a
vague
,
terrible
pathos
in
the
mystery
of
his
fate
that
oppressed
her
with
a
weight
of
future
evil
,
unknown
,
and
unmeasured
.
"
Is
he
a
madman
?
"
she
mused
.
"
If
not
,
he
is
a
martyr
;
—
one
of
the
greatest
that
ever
suffered
unknown
to
other
men
.
"
In
the
coolness
of
the
late
evening
in
the
court
of
the
caravanserai
her
brother
and
his
friends
lounged
with
her
and
the
two
ladies
of
their
touring
and
sketching
party
,
while
they
drank
their
sherbet
,
and
talked
of
the
Gérôme
colours
of
the
place
,
and
watched
the
flame
of
the
after-glow
burn
out
,
and
threw
millet
to
the
doves
and
pigeons
straying
at
their
feet
.
"
My
dear
Venetia
!
"
cried
the
Seraph
,
carelessly
,
tossing
handfuls
of
grain
to
the
eager
birds
,
"
I
inquired
for
your
Sculptor-Chasseur
—
that
fellow
Victor
—
but
I
failed
to
see
him
,
for
he
had
been
sent
on
an
expedition
shortly
after
I
reached
the
camp
.
They
tell
me
he
is
a
fine
soldier
;
but
by
what
the
Marquis
said
,
I
fear
he
is
but
a
handsome
blackguard
,
and
Africa
,
after
all
,
may
be
his
fittest
place
.
"
She
gave
a
bend
of
her
head
to
show
she
heard
him
,
stroking
the
soft
throat
of
a
little
dove
that
had
settled
on
the
bench
beside
her
.
"
There
is
a
charming
little
creature
there
,
a
little
fire-eater
—
Cigarette
they
call
her
—
who
is
in
love
with
him
,
I
fancy
.
Such
a
picturesque
child
!
—
swears
like
a
trooper
,
too
,
"
continued
he
who
was
now
Duke
of
Lyonnesse
.
"
By
the
way
,
is
Berkeley
gone
?
"
"
Left
yesterday
.
"
"
What
for
?
—
where
to
?
"
"
I
was
not
interested
to
inquire
.
"
"
Ah
!
you
never
liked
him
!
Odd
enough
to
leave
without
reason
or
apology
?
"
"
He
had
his
reasons
,
doubtless
.
"
"
And
made
his
apology
to
you
?
"
"
Oh
yes
.
"
Her
brother
looked
at
her
earnestly
;
there
was
a
care
upon
her
face
new
to
him
.
"
Are
you
well
,
my
darling
?
"
he
asked
her
.
"
Has
the
sun
been
too
hot
,
or
la
bise
too
cold
for
you
?
"
She
rose
,
and
gathered
her
cashmeres
about
her
,
and
smiled
somewhat
wearily
her
adieu
to
him
.
"
Both
,
perhaps
.
I
am
tired
.
Good
night
.
"
CHAPTER
VIII
.
THE
GIFT
OF
THE
CROSS
.
One
of
the
most
brilliant
of
Algerian
autumnal
days
shone
over
the
great
camp
in
the
south
.
The
war
was
almost
at
an
end
for
a
time
;
the
Arabs
were
defeated
and
driven
desert-wards
;
hostilities
irksome
,
harassing
,
and
annoying
,
like
all
guerilla
warfare
,
would
long
continue
,
but
peace
was
virtually
established
,
and
Zarâila
had
been
the
chief
glory
that
had
been
added
by
the
campaign
to
the
flag
of
Imperial
France
.
The
kites
and
the
vultures
had
left
the
bare
bones
by
thousands
to
bleach
upon
the
sands
,
and
the
hillocks
of
brown
earth
rose
in
crowds
where
those
,
more
cared
for
in
death
,
had
been
hastily
thrust
beneath
the
brown
crust
of
the
earth
.
The
dead
had
received
their
portion
of
reward
—
in
the
jackal
's
teeth
,
in
the
crow
's
beak
,
in
the
worm
's
caress
.
And
the
living
received
theirs
in
this
glorious
rose-flecked
glittering
autumn
morning
,
when
the
breath
of
winter
made
the
air
crisp
and
cool
,
but
the
ardent
noon
still
lighted
with
its
furnace-glow
the
hill-side
and
the
plain
.
The
whole
of
the
Army
of
the
South
was
drawn
up
on
the
immense
level
of
the
plateau
to
witness
the
presentation
of
the
Cross
of
the
Legion
of
Honour
.
It
was
full
noon
.
The
sun
shone
without
a
single
cloud
on
the
deep
sparkling
azure
of
the
skies
.
The
troops
stretched
east
and
west
,
north
and
south
,
formed
up
in
three
sides
of
one
vast
massive
square
.
The
battalions
of
Zouaves
and
of
Zéphyrs
;
the
brigade
of
Chasseurs
d'Afrique
;
the
squadrons
of
Spahis
;
the
regiments
of
Tirailleurs
and
Turcos
;
the
batteries
of
Flying
Artillery
,
were
all
massed
there
,
reassembled
from
the
various
camps
and
stations
of
the
southern
provinces
to
do
honour
to
the
day
:
—
to
do
honour
in
especial
to
one
by
whom
the
glory
of
the
Tricolour
had
been
saved
unstained
.
The
red
white
and
blue
of
the
standards
,
the
brass
of
the
eagle
guidons
,
the
grey
tossed
manes
of
the
chargers
,
the
fierce
swarthy
faces
of
the
soldiery
,
the
scarlet
of
the
Spahis
'
cloaks
,
and
the
snowy
folds
of
the
Demi-Cavalerie
turbans
,
the
shine
of
the
sloped
lances
,
and
the
glisten
of
the
carbine
barrels
,
fused
together
in
one
sea
of
blended
colour
,
flashed
into
a
million
of
prismatic
hues
against
the
sombre
bistre
shadow
of
the
sunburnt
plains
and
the
clear
blue
of
the
skies
.
It
had
been
a
sanguinary
,
fruitless
,
cruel
campaign
;
it
had
availed
nothing
except
to
drive
the
Arabs
away
from
some
hundred
leagues
of
useless
and
profitless
soil
;
hundreds
of
French
soldiers
had
fallen
by
disease
,
and
drought
,
and
dysentery
,
as
well
as
by
shot
and
sabre
,
and
were
unrecorded
save
on
the
books
of
the
bureaux
,
unlamented
save
,
perhaps
,
in
some
little
nestling
hamlet
amongst
the
great
green
woods
of
Normandy
,
or
some
wooden
hut
amongst
the
olives
and
the
vines
of
Provence
,
where
some
woman
toiling
till
sunset
among
the
fields
,
or
praying
before
some
wayside
saint
's
stone
niche
,
would
give
a
thought
to
the
far-off
and
devouring
desert
that
had
drawn
down
beneath
its
sands
the
head
that
used
to
lie
upon
her
bosom
,
cradled
as
a
child
's
,
or
caressed
as
a
lover
.
But
the
drums
rolled
out
their
long
deep
thunder
over
the
wastes
;
and
the
shot-torn
standards
fluttered
gaily
in
the
breeze
blowing
from
the
west
;
and
the
clear
full
music
of
the
French
bands
echoed
away
to
the
dim
distant
terrible
south
,
where
the
desert-scorch
and
the
desert-thirst
had
murdered
their
bravest
and
best
—
and
the
Army
was
en
fête
.
En
fête
,
for
it
did
honour
to
its
darling
.
Cigarette
received
the
Cross
.
Mounted
on
her
own
little
bright
bay
,
Etoile-Filante
,
with
tricolour
ribbons
flying
from
his
bridle
and
amongst
the
glossy
fringes
of
his
mane
,
the
Little
One
rode
among
her
Spahis
.
A
scarlet
képi
was
set
on
her
thick
silken
curls
,
a
tricolour
sash
was
knotted
round
her
waist
,
her
wine-barrel
was
slung
on
her
left
hip
,
her
pistols
thrust
in
her
ceinturon
,
and
a
light
carbine
held
in
her
hand
with
the
butt-end
resting
on
her
foot
.
With
the
sun
on
her
child-like
brunette
face
,
her
eyes
flashing
like
brown
diamonds
in
the
light
,
and
her
marvellous
horsemanship
,
showing
its
skill
in
a
hundred
désinvoltures
and
daring
tricks
,
the
little
Friend
of
the
Flag
had
come
hither
amongst
her
half-savage
warriors
,
whose
red
robes
surrounded
her
like
a
sea
of
blood
.
And
on
a
sea
of
blood
she
,
the
Child
of
War
,
had
floated
,
never
sinking
in
that
awful
flood
,
but
buoyant
ever
above
its
darkest
waves
,
catching
ever
some
ray
of
sunlight
upon
her
fair
young
head
,
and
being
oftentimes
like
a
star
of
hope
to
those
over
whom
its
dreaded
waters
closed
.
Therefore
they
loved
her
,
these
grim
,
slaughterous
,
and
lustful
warriors
,
to
whom
no
other
thing
of
womanhood
was
sacred
,
by
whom
in
their
wrath
or
their
crime
no
friend
and
no
brother
was
spared
,
whose
law
was
licence
,
and
whose
mercy
was
murder
.
They
loved
her
,
these
brutes
whose
greed
was
like
the
tiger
's
,
whose
hate
was
like
the
devouring
flame
;
and
any
who
should
have
harmed
a
single
lock
of
her
curling
hair
would
have
had
the
spears
of
the
African
Mussulmans
buried
by
the
score
in
his
body
.
They
loved
her
,
with
the
one
fond
proud
triumphant
love
these
vultures
of
the
army
ever
knew
;
and
to-day
they
gloried
in
her
with
fierce
passionate
delight
.
To-day
she
was
to
her
wild
wolves
of
Africa
what
Jeanne
of
Vaucouleurs
was
to
her
brethren
of
France
.
And
to-day
was
the
crown
of
her
young
life
.
It
is
given
to
most
,
if
the
desire
of
their
soul
ever
become
theirs
,
to
possess
it
only
when
long
and
weary
and
fainting
toil
has
brought
them
to
its
goal
;
when
beholding
the
golden
fruit
so
far
off
,
through
so
dreary
a
pilgrimage
,
dulls
its
bloom
as
they
approach
;
when
having
so
long
centred
all
their
thoughts
and
hopes
in
the
denied
possession
of
that
one
fair
thing
,
they
find
but
little
beauty
in
it
when
that
possession
is
granted
to
satiate
their
love
.
But
thrice
happy
,
and
few
as
happy
,
are
they
to
whom
the
dream
of
their
youth
is
fulfilled
in
their
youth
,
to
whom
their
ambition
comes
in
full
sweet
fruitage
,
whilst
yet
the
colours
of
glory
have
not
faded
to
the
young
,
eager
,
longing
eyes
that
watch
its
advent
.
And
of
these
was
Cigarette
.
In
the
fair
,
slight
,
girlish
body
of
the
child-soldier
there
lived
a
courage
as
daring
as
Danton
's
,
a
patriotism
as
pure
as
Vergniaud
's
,
a
soul
as
aspiring
as
Napoléon
's
.
Untaught
,
untutored
,
uninspired
by
poet
's
words
or
patriot
's
bidding
,
spontaneous
as
the
rising
and
the
blossoming
of
some
wind-sown
,
sun-fed
flower
,
there
was
,
in
this
child
of
the
battle
and
the
razzia
,
the
spirit
of
genius
,
the
desire
to
live
and
to
die
greatly
.
It
was
unreasoned
on
,
it
was
felt
not
thought
,
it
was
often
drowned
in
the
gaiety
of
young
laughter
and
the
ribaldry
of
military
jest
,
it
was
often
obscured
by
noxious
influence
and
stifled
beneath
the
fumes
of
lawless
pleasure
;
but
there
,
ever
,
in
the
soul
and
the
heart
of
Cigarette
,
dwelt
the
germ
of
a
pure
ambition
—
the
ambition
to
do
some
noble
thing
for
France
,
and
leave
her
name
upon
her
soldiers
'
lips
,
a
watchword
and
a
rallying-cry
for
evermore
.
To
be
for
ever
a
beloved
tradition
in
the
army
of
her
country
,
to
have
her
name
remembered
in
the
roll-call
as
"
Mort
sur
le
champ
d'honneur
;
"
to
be
once
shrined
in
the
love
and
honour
of
France
,
Cigarette
—
full
of
the
boundless
joys
of
life
that
knew
no
weakness
and
no
pain
,
strong
as
the
young
goat
,
happy
as
the
young
lamb
,
careless
as
the
young
flower
tossing
on
the
summer
breeze
—
Cigarette
would
have
died
contentedly
.
And
now
,
living
,
some
measure
of
this
desire
had
been
fulfilled
to
her
,
some
breath
of
this
imperishable
glory
had
passed
over
her
.
France
had
heard
the
story
of
Zarâila
;
from
the
Throne
a
message
had
been
passed
to
her
;
what
was
far
beyond
all
else
to
her
,
her
own
Army
of
Africa
had
crowned
her
,
and
thanked
her
,
and
adored
her
as
with
one
voice
,
and
wheresoever
she
passed
the
wild
cheers
rang
through
the
roar
of
musketry
,
as
through
the
silence
of
sunny
air
,
and
throughout
the
regiments
every
sword
would
have
sprung
from
its
scabbard
in
her
defence
if
she
had
but
lifted
her
hand
and
said
one
word
—
"
Zarâila
!
"
The
Army
looked
on
her
with
delight
now
.
In
all
that
mute
,
still
,
immovable
mass
that
stretched
out
so
far
,
in
such
gorgeous
array
,
there
was
not
one
man
whose
eyes
did
not
turn
on
her
,
whose
pride
did
not
centre
in
her
—
their
Little
One
,
who
was
so
wholly
theirs
,
and
who
had
been
under
the
shadow
of
their
Flag
ever
since
the
curls
,
so
dark
now
,
had
been
yellow
as
wheat
in
her
infancy
.
The
Flag
had
been
her
shelter
,
her
guardian
,
her
plaything
,
her
idol
;
the
flutter
of
the
striped
folds
had
been
the
first
thing
at
which
her
childish
eyes
had
laughed
;
the
preservation
of
its
colours
from
the
sacrilege
of
an
enemy
's
touch
had
been
her
religion
,
a
religion
whose
true
following
was
,
in
her
sight
,
salvation
of
the
worst
and
the
most
worthless
life
;
and
that
Flag
she
had
saved
,
and
borne
aloft
in
victory
at
Zarâila
.
There
was
not
one
in
all
those
hosts
whose
eyes
did
not
turn
on
her
with
gratitude
,
and
reverence
,
and
delight
in
her
as
their
own
.
Not
one
:
except
where
her
own
keen
,
rapid
glance
,
far-seeing
as
the
hawk
's
,
lighted
on
the
squadrons
of
the
Chasseurs
d'Afrique
,
and
found
amongst
their
ranks
one
face
,
grave
,
weary
,
meditative
,
with
a
gaze
that
seemed
looking
far
away
from
the
glittering
scene
to
a
grave
that
lay
unseen
leagues
beyond
,
behind
the
rocky
ridge
.
"
He
is
thinking
of
the
dead
man
,
not
of
me
,
"
thought
Cigarette
;
and
the
first
taint
of
bitterness
entered
into
her
cup
of
joy
and
triumph
,
as
such
bitterness
enters
into
most
cups
that
are
drunk
by
human
lips
.
A
whole
Army
was
thinking
of
her
,
and
of
her
alone
;
and
there
was
a
void
in
her
heart
,
a
thorn
in
her
crown
,
because
one
among
that
mighty
mass
—
one
only
—
gave
her
presence
little
heed
,
but
thought
rather
of
a
lonely
tomb
amongst
the
desolation
of
the
plains
.
But
she
had
scarce
time
even
for
that
flash
of
pain
to
quiver
in
impotent
impatience
through
her
.
The
trumpets
sounded
,
the
salvoes
of
artillery
pealed
out
,
the
lances
and
the
swords
were
carried
up
in
salute
;
on
to
the
ground
rode
the
Marshal
of
France
,
who
represented
the
imperial
will
and
presence
,
surrounded
by
his
staff
,
by
generals
of
division
and
brigade
,
by
officers
of
rank
,
and
by
some
few
civilian
riders
.
An
aide
galloped
up
to
her
where
she
stood
with
the
corps
of
her
Spahis
,
and
gave
her
his
orders
.
The
Little
One
nodded
carelessly
,
and
touched
Etoile-Filante
with
the
prick
of
the
spur
.
Like
lightning
the
animal
bounded
forth
from
the
ranks
,
rearing
and
plunging
,
and
swerving
from
side
to
side
,
while
his
rider
,
with
exquisite
grace
and
address
,
kept
her
seat
like
the
little
semi-Arab
that
she
was
,
and
with
a
thousand
curves
and
bounds
cantered
down
the
line
of
the
gathered
troops
,
with
the
west
wind
blowing
from
the
far-distant
sea
,
and
fanning
her
bright
cheeks
till
they
wore
the
soft
scarlet
flush
of
the
glowing
japonica
flower
.
And
all
down
the
ranks
a
low
,
hoarse
,
strange
,
longing
murmur
went
—
the
buzz
of
the
voices
which
,
but
that
discipline
suppressed
them
,
would
have
broken
out
in
worshipping
acclamations
.
As
carelessly
as
though
she
reined
up
before
the
Café
door
of
the
As
de
Pique
,
she
arrested
her
horse
before
the
great
Marshal
who
was
the
impersonation
of
Authority
,
and
put
her
hand
up
in
the
salute
,
with
her
saucy
wayward
laugh
.
He
was
the
impersonation
of
that
vast
,
silent
,
awful
,
irresponsible
power
which
,
under
the
name
of
the
Second
Empire
,
stretched
its
hand
of
iron
across
the
sea
,
and
forced
the
soldiers
of
France
down
into
nameless
graves
,
with
the
desert
sand
choking
their
mouths
;
but
he
was
no
more
to
Cigarette
than
any
drummer-boy
that
might
be
present
.
She
had
all
the
contempt
for
the
laws
of
rank
of
your
thorough
inborn
democrat
,
all
the
gay
insouciant
indifference
to
station
of
the
really
free
and
untrammelled
nature
;
and
,
in
her
sight
,
a
dying
soldier
,
lying
quietly
in
a
ditch
to
perish
of
shot-wounds
without
a
word
or
a
moan
,
was
greater
than
all
Messieurs
les
Maréchaux
glittering
in
their
stars
and
orders
.
As
for
impressing
her
,
or
hoping
to
impress
her
,
with
rank
—
pooh
!
You
might
as
well
have
bid
the
sailing
clouds
pause
in
their
floating
passage
because
they
came
between
royalty
and
the
sun
.
All
the
sovereigns
of
Europe
would
have
awed
Cigarette
not
one
whit
more
than
a
gathering
of
muleteers
.
"
Allied
sovereigns
—
bah
!
"
she
would
have
said
,
"
what
did
that
mean
in
'
15
?
A
chorus
of
magpies
chattering
over
one
stricken
eagle
!
"
So
she
reined
up
before
the
Marshal
and
his
staff
,
and
the
few
great
personages
whom
Algeria
could
bring
around
them
,
as
indifferently
as
she
had
many
a
time
reined
up
before
a
knot
of
grim
Turcos
,
smoking
under
a
barrack-gate
.
He
was
nothing
to
her
:
it
was
her
Army
that
crowned
her
.
"
The
Generalissimo
is
the
poppy-head
,
the
men
are
the
wheat
;
lay
every
ear
of
the
wheat
low
,
and
of
what
use
is
the
towering
poppy
that
blazed
so
grand
in
the
sun
?
"
Cigarette
would
say
with
metaphorical
unction
,
forgetful
,
like
most
allegorists
,
that
her
fable
was
one-sided
and
unjust
in
figure
and
deduction
.
Nevertheless
,
despite
her
gay
contempt
for
rank
,
her
heart
beat
fast
under
its
gold-laced
jacket
as
she
reined
up
Etoile
and
saluted
.
In
that
hot
clear
sun
all
the
eyes
of
that
immense
host
were
fastened
on
her
,
and
the
hour
of
her
longing
desire
was
come
at
last
.
France
had
recognised
that
she
had
done
greatly
,
and
France
,
through
the
voice
of
this
,
its
chief
,
spoke
to
her
—
France
,
her
beloved
,
and
her
guiding-star
,
for
whose
sake
the
young
brave
soul
within
her
would
have
dared
and
have
endured
all
things
.
There
was
a
group
before
her
,
large
and
brilliant
,
but
at
them
Cigarette
never
looked
;
what
she
saw
were
the
sunburnt
faces
of
her
"
children
,
"
of
men
who
,
in
the
majority
,
were
old
enough
to
be
her
grandsires
,
who
had
been
with
her
through
so
many
darksome
hours
,
and
whose
black
and
rugged
features
lightened
and
grew
tender
whenever
they
looked
upon
their
Little
One
.
For
the
moment
she
felt
giddy
with
sweet
fiery
joy
;
they
were
here
to
behold
her
thanked
in
the
name
of
France
.
The
Marshal
,
in
advance
of
all
his
staff
,
doffed
his
plumed
hat
and
bowed
to
his
saddle-bow
as
he
faced
her
.
He
knew
her
well
by
sight
,
this
pretty
child
of
his
Army
of
Africa
,
who
had
,
before
then
,
suppressed
mutiny
like
a
veteran
,
and
led
the
charge
like
a
Murat
—
this
kitten
with
a
lion
's
heart
,
this
humming-bird
with
an
eagle
's
swoop
.
"
Mademoiselle
,
"
he
commenced
,
while
his
voice
,
well
skilled
to
such
work
,
echoed
to
the
farthest
end
of
the
long
lines
of
troops
,
"
I
have
the
honour
to
discharge
to-day
the
happiest
duty
of
my
life
.
In
conveying
to
you
the
expression
of
the
Emperor
's
approval
of
your
noble
conduct
in
the
present
campaign
,
I
express
the
sentiments
of
the
whole
Army
.
Your
action
on
the
day
of
Zarâila
was
as
brilliant
in
conception
as
it
was
great
in
execution
;
and
the
courage
you
displayed
was
only
equalled
by
your
patriotism
.
May
the
soldiers
of
many
wars
remember
you
and
emulate
you
.
In
the
name
of
France
,
I
thank
you
.
In
the
name
of
the
Emperor
,
I
bring
to
you
the
Cross
of
the
Legion
of
Honour
.
"
As
the
brief
and
soldierly
words
rolled
down
the
ranks
of
the
listening
regiments
,
he
stooped
forward
from
his
saddle
and
fastened
the
red
ribbon
on
her
breast
;
while
from
the
whole
gathered
mass
,
watching
,
hearing
,
waiting
breathlessly
to
give
their
tribute
of
applause
to
their
darling
also
,
a
great
shout
rose
as
with
one
voice
,
strong
,
full
,
echoing
over
and
over
again
across
the
plains
in
thunder
that
joined
her
name
with
the
name
of
France
and
of
Napoléon
,
and
hurled
it
upward
in
fierce
tumultuous
idolatrous
love
to
those
cruel
cloudless
skies
that
shone
above
the
dead
.
She
was
their
child
,
their
treasure
,
their
idol
,
their
young
leader
in
war
,
their
young
angel
in
suffering
;
she
was
all
their
own
,
knowing
with
them
one
common
mother
—
France
.
Honour
to
her
was
honour
to
them
;
they
gloried
with
heart
and
soul
in
this
bright
young
fearless
life
that
had
been
amongst
them
ever
since
her
infant
feet
had
waded
through
the
blood
of
slaughter-fields
,
and
her
infant
lips
had
laughed
to
see
the
tricolour
float
in
the
sun
above
the
smoke
of
battle
.
And
as
she
heard
,
her
face
became
very
pale
,
her
large
eyes
grew
dim
and
very
soft
,
her
mirthful
mouth
trembled
with
the
pain
of
a
too
intense
joy
.
She
lifted
her
head
,
and
all
the
unutterable
love
she
bore
her
country
and
her
people
thrilled
through
the
music
of
her
voice
:
"
Français
!
—
ce
n'était
rien
!
"
That
was
all
she
said
;
in
that
one
first
word
of
their
common
nationality
,
she
spoke
alike
to
the
Marshal
of
the
Empire
and
to
the
conscript
of
the
ranks
.
"
Français
!
"
that
one
title
made
them
all
equal
in
her
sight
;
whoever
claimed
it
was
honoured
in
her
eyes
,
and
was
precious
to
her
heart
,
and
when
she
answered
them
that
it
was
nothing
,
this
thing
which
they
glorified
in
her
,
she
answered
but
what
seemed
the
simple
truth
in
her
code
.
She
would
have
thought
it
"
nothing
"
to
have
perished
by
shot
,
or
steel
,
or
flame
,
in
day-long
torture
for
that
one
fair
sake
of
France
.
Vain
in
all
else
,
and
to
all
else
wayward
,
here
she
was
docile
and
submissive
as
the
most
patient
child
;
here
she
deemed
the
greatest
and
the
hardest
thing
that
she
could
ever
do
far
less
than
all
that
she
would
willingly
have
done
.
And
as
she
looked
upon
the
host
whose
thousand
and
ten
thousand
voices
rang
up
to
the
noonday
sun
in
her
homage
,
and
in
hers
alone
,
a
light
like
a
glory
beamed
upon
her
face
that
for
once
was
white
and
still
and
very
grave
;
—
none
who
saw
her
face
then
,
ever
forgot
that
look
.
In
that
moment
she
touched
the
full
sweetness
of
a
proud
and
pure
ambition
,
attained
and
possessed
in
all
its
intensity
,
in
all
its
perfect
splendour
.
In
that
moment
she
knew
that
divine
hour
which
,
born
of
a
people
's
love
and
of
the
impossible
desires
of
genius
in
its
youth
,
comes
to
so
few
human
lives
—
knew
that
which
was
known
to
the
young
Napoléon
when
,
in
the
hot
hush
of
the
nights
of
July
,
France
welcomed
the
Conqueror
of
Italy
.
And
in
that
moment
there
was
an
intense
stillness
;
the
Army
crowned
as
its
bravest
and
its
best
a
woman-child
in
the
spring-time
of
her
girlhood
.
Then
Cigarette
laid
her
hand
on
the
Cross
that
had
been
the
dream
of
her
years
since
she
had
first
seen
the
brazen
glisten
of
the
eagles
above
her
wondering
eyes
of
infancy
,
and
loosened
it
from
above
her
heart
,
and
stretched
her
hand
out
with
it
to
the
great
Chief
.
"
Monsieur
le
Maréchal
,
this
is
not
for
me
.
"
"
Not
for
you
!
The
Emperor
bestows
it
—
—
"
Cigarette
saluted
with
her
left
hand
,
still
stretching
to
him
the
decoration
with
the
other
.
"
It
is
not
for
me
—
not
whilst
I
wear
it
unjustly
.
"
"
Unjustly
!
What
is
your
meaning
?
My
child
,
you
talk
strangely
.
The
gifts
of
the
Empire
are
not
given
lightly
.
"
"
No
;
and
they
shall
not
be
given
unfairly
.
Listen
.
"
The
colour
had
flushed
back
,
bright
and
radiant
,
to
her
cheeks
;
her
eyes
glanced
with
their
old
daring
;
her
contemptuous
,
careless
eloquence
returned
,
and
her
voice
echoed
,
every
note
distinct
as
the
notes
of
a
trumpet-call
,
down
the
ranks
of
the
listening
soldiery
.
"
Hark
you
!
The
Emperor
sends
me
this
Cross
;
France
thanks
me
;
the
Army
applauds
me
.
Well
,
I
thank
them
,
one
and
all
.
Cigarette
was
never
yet
ungrateful
;
it
is
the
sin
of
the
coward
.
But
I
say
I
will
not
take
what
is
unjustly
mine
,
and
this
preference
to
me
is
unjust
.
I
saved
the
day
at
Zarâila
?
—
oh-hé
!
grande
chose
ça
!
And
how
?
—
by
scampering
fast
on
my
mare
,
and
asking
for
a
squadron
or
two
of
my
Spahis
—
that
was
all
.
If
I
had
not
done
so
much
—
I
,
a
soldier
of
Africa
—
why
,
I
should
have
deserved
to
have
been
shot
like
a
cat
—
bah
!
—
should
I
not
?
It
was
not
I
who
saved
the
battle
.
Who
was
it
?
It
was
a
Chasseur
d
'
Afrique
,
I
tell
you
.
What
did
he
do
?
Why
,
this
.
When
his
officers
were
all
gone
down
,
he
rallied
,
and
gathered
his
handful
of
men
,
and
held
the
ground
with
them
all
through
the
day
—
two
—
four
—
six
—
eight
—
ten
hours
in
the
scorch
of
the
sun
.
The
Arbicos
,
even
,
were
forced
to
see
that
was
grand
;
they
offered
him
life
if
he
would
yield
.
All
his
answer
was
to
form
his
few
horsemen
into
line
as
well
as
he
could
for
the
slain
,
and
charge
—
a
last
charge
in
which
he
knew
not
one
of
his
troop
could
live
through
the
swarms
of
the
Arbis
around
them
.
That
I
saw
with
my
own
eyes
.
I
and
my
Spahis
just
reached
him
in
time
.
Then
who
is
it
that
saved
the
day
,
I
pray
you
?
—
I
,
who
just
ran
a
race
for
fun
and
came
in
at
the
fag-end
of
the
thing
,
or
this
man
who
lived
the
whole
day
through
in
the
carnage
,
and
never
let
go
of
the
guidon
,
but
only
thought
how
to
die
greatly
?
I
tell
you
,
the
Cross
is
his
,
and
not
mine
.
Take
it
back
,
and
give
it
where
it
is
due
.
"
The
Marshal
listened
,
half
amazed
,
half
amused
—
half
prepared
to
resent
the
insult
to
the
Empire
and
to
discipline
,
half
disposed
to
award
that
submission
to
her
caprice
which
all
Algeria
gave
to
Cigarette
.
"
Mademoiselle
,
"
he
said
,
with
a
grave
smile
,
"
the
honours
of
the
Empire
are
not
to
be
treated
thus
.
But
who
is
this
man
for
whom
you
claim
so
much
?
"
"
Who
is
he
?
"
echoed
Cigarette
,
with
all
her
fiery
disdain
for
authority
ablaze
once
more
like
brandy
in
a
flame
.
"
Oh-hé
!
Napoléon
Premier
would
not
have
left
his
Marshals
to
ask
that
!
He
is
the
finest
soldier
in
Africa
,
if
it
be
possible
for
one
to
be
finer
than
another
where
all
are
so
great
.
They
know
that
;
they
pick
him
out
for
all
the
dangerous
missions
.
But
the
Black
Hawk
hates
him
,
and
so
France
never
hears
the
truth
of
all
that
he
does
.
I
tell
you
,
if
the
Emperor
had
seen
him
as
I
saw
him
on
the
field
of
Zarâila
,
his
would
have
been
the
Cross
,
and
not
mine
.
"
"
You
are
generous
,
my
Little
One
.
"
"
No
;
I
am
just
.
"
Her
brave
eyes
glowed
in
the
sun
,
her
voice
rang
as
clear
as
a
bell
.
She
raised
her
head
proudly
and
glanced
down
the
line
of
her
army
.
She
was
just
—
that
was
the
one
virtue
in
Cigarette
's
creed
without
which
you
were
poltroon
,
or
liar
,
or
both
.
She
alone
knew
what
neglect
,
what
indifference
,
what
unintentional
but
none
the
less
piercing
insults
she
had
to
avenge
;
she
alone
knew
of
that
pain
with
which
she
had
heard
the
name
of
her
patrician
rival
murmured
in
delirious
slumber
after
Zarâila
;
she
alone
knew
of
that
negligent
caress
of
farewell
with
which
her
lips
had
been
touched
as
lightly
as
his
hand
caressed
a
horse
's
neck
or
a
bird
's
wing
.
But
these
did
not
weigh
with
her
one
instant
to
make
her
withhold
the
words
that
she
deemed
deserved
;
these
did
not
balance
against
him
one
instant
the
pique
and
the
pain
of
her
own
heart
in
opposition
to
the
due
of
his
courage
and
his
fortitude
.
Cigarette
was
rightly
proud
of
her
immunity
from
the
weaknesses
of
her
sex
;
she
had
neither
meanness
nor
selfishness
.
The
Marshal
listened
gravely
,
the
groups
around
him
smilingly
.
If
it
had
been
any
other
than
the
Little
One
,
it
would
have
been
very
different
;
as
it
was
,
all
France
and
all
Algeria
knew
Cigarette
.
"
What
may
be
the
name
of
this
man
whom
you
praise
so
greatly
,
my
pretty
one
?
"
he
asked
her
.
"
That
I
cannot
tell
,
Monsieur
le
Maréchal
.
All
I
know
is
he
calls
himself
here
Louis
Victor
.
"
"
Ah
!
I
have
heard
much
of
him
.
A
fine
soldier
,
but
—
—
"
"
A
fine
soldier
without
a
'
but
,
"
'
interrupted
Cigarette
,
with
rebellious
indifference
to
the
rank
of
the
great
man
she
corrected
,
"
unless
you
add
,
'
but
never
done
justice
by
his
Chief
.
'
"
As
she
spoke
,
her
eyes
for
the
first
time
glanced
over
the
various
personages
who
were
mingled
amongst
the
staff
of
the
Marshal
,
his
invited
guests
for
the
review
upon
the
plains
.
The
colour
burned
more
duskily
in
her
cheek
,
her
eyes
glittered
with
hate
;
she
could
have
bitten
her
little
,
frank
,
witty
tongue
through
and
through
for
having
spoken
the
name
of
that
Chasseur
who
was
yonder
,
out
of
earshot
,
where
the
lance-heads
of
his
squadrons
glistened
against
the
blue
skies
.
She
saw
a
face
which
,
though
seen
but
once
before
,
she
knew
instantly
again
—
the
face
of
"
Miladi
.
"
And
she
saw
it
change
colour
,
and
lose
its
beautiful
hue
,
and
grow
grave
and
troubled
as
the
last
words
passed
between
herself
and
the
French
Marshal
.
"
Ah
!
can
she
feel
!
"
wondered
Cigarette
,
who
,
with
a
common
error
of
such
vehement
young
democrats
as
herself
,
always
thought
that
hearts
never
ached
in
the
Patrician
Order
,
and
thought
so
still
when
she
saw
the
listless
proud
tranquillity
return
,
not
