l, whoever expects
gratitude from women. . . ."

Suddenly the quartermaster remembered the hour just before the election,
when Florette had thrown herself upon his breast, and thanked him for his
kindness; clenching his teeth, he groaned aloud.

The others were about to leave him, but he regained his self-control, and
said:

"Take him the count's letter, Renato. What I have to say to him, I will
determine later."

Zorrillo was a long time unlacing his jerkin and taking out the paper.
Both of his companions noticed how his fingers trembled, and looked at
each other compassionately; but the older one said, as he received the
letter:

"Man, man, this will do no good. Women are like good fortune."

"Take the thing as a thousand others have taken it, and don't come to
blows. You wield a good blade, but to attack Navarrete is suicide. I'll
take him the letter. Be wise, Zorrillo, and look for another love at
once."

"Directly, directly, of course," replied the quartermaster; but as soon
as he had sent the maid-servant away, and was entirely alone, he bowed
his forehead upon the table and his shoulders heaved convulsively. He
remained in this attitude a long time, then paced to and fro with forced
calmness. Morning dawned long ere he sought his couch.

Early the next day he made his report to the Eletto before the assembled
council of war, and when it broke up, approached Navarrete, saying, in so
loud a tone that no one could fail to hear:

"I congratulate you on your new sweetheart."

"With good reason," replied the Eletto. "Wait a little while, and I'll
wager that you'll congratulate me more sincerely than you do to-day."

The offers from Brussels had again proved unacceptable. It was necessary
now to act, and the insurgent commander profited by the time at his
disposal. It seemed as if "power" doubled his elasticity and energy. It
was so delightful, after the march, the council of war, and the day's
work were over, to rest with his mother, listen to her, and open his own
heart. How had she preserved--yes, he might call it so--her aristocratic
bearing, amid the turmoil, perils, and mire of camp-life, in spite of
all, all! How cleverly and entertainingly she could talk about men and
things, how comical the ideas, with which she understood how to spice the
conversation, and how well versed he found her in everything that related
to the situation of the regiments and his own position. She had not been
the confidant