him were deeply enhanced by
the remarks by which she opened the conversation.

"I sent for you, sir," commenced the lady in a subdued tone, "to speak
to you about Captain Charles Pimontel."

The veteran soldier, believing she was his betrothed, that she was
torn by cruel destiny from the object of her affections, endeavored
to soothe her troubled spirit by the balm of kindness and consolation.

"Ah! madame," he replied in his blandest manner, "if report be true,
a cruel fate has removed him for a while from thy embrace. Young,
brave, and amiable, he was the darling of our troops, and fortune
seemed to lead our gallant young captain to a brilliant career; but
some foul assassin's hand has cut the flower ere it bloomed; destiny,
as cruel as it has been mysterious, has darkened his sun ere yet it
shone in the zenith of day!"

"Oh! sir, it may not yet be true that he has met such a sad fate,"
retorted the lady.

"Alas!" replied the commandant, "yesterday evening the youth's body
was washed up on our beach; the wounds of twenty stilettos gaped on
his mangled corpse, and the lampreys of our bay fed on his noble flesh
as they would on the vile slaves cast to them by the monster Nero.
These eyes have seen the horrid sight; though we could not recognize
the brave youth, we wept as if our own son had fallen by cowardly
hands."

The old commandant was somewhat excited; before the warm tear had welled
from the fountains of sympathy, the young lady spoke in an animated
and excited manner:

"But, sir, there is surely some mistake. It cannot be said Charles
Pimontel was murdered; does it follow because the unrecognized body
of some hapless victim of a street brawl has been washed on the beach
that it must necessarily be the body of the captain? Do you not think
his murderers would pay dearly for this attack on him? Have any
witnesses come forward to swear to his assassination? I will not
believe in his death until stronger proofs have been given; and I may
be intruding on the precious time of our commandant, but I have sought
this interview with you have found the murdered remains of Charles
Pimontel."

"Love, madame," rejoined the commandant sentimentally, "clings to
forlorn hopes, and in its sea of trouble will grasp at straws. The
whole city has proclaimed the murder of the captain; our military
chapel is draped in gloom, and I have given orders that all the garrison
be in attendance on the morrow at the obsequies.