hear what I would
tell you."

Jeanne came close to her side and waited to hear what her aunt had to say.

CHAPTER XIV

A VICTIM OF DECEIT

"I do not know," began Madame in her soft voice, "whether I have told you
that I have a brother. Have I?"

"No, Cherie."

"I have, petite, in the Confederate Army. He is very dear to me. A few
days ago I learned that he was wounded and ill. He is not far from
the city, and he lies in a rude hospital tent without clothing or the
necessary food and medicine. Is it not hard, little one, to think of being
in the midst of plenty while my only brother is destitute?"

"Yes," answered Jeanne with ready sympathy, "it is."

"I thought that you would think so," and the lady smoothed her hair
gently. "Suppose that it were your own brother, Dick. I know that you
would do almost anything to help him, and I feel the same about Auguste. I
tried vainly to get a pass to go to him to take him some necessities,
but ma foi! That beast of a Yankee General will not give me one. I am
distressed. I suffer, but of what avail is it? I come to you, my little
one, for aid."

"To me?" Jeanne looked her surprise. "What can I do, Cherie?"

"You are so brave. You have so much cleverness. Could I do it I would not
ask it of you. But what would you! I am a coward. I faint at the least
noise. I lose my wits; and so, child, I want you to take some medicine
and food to my Auguste."

"I to take it? Why how could I do it?"

"'Tis easy to one who has the courage, petite. I would send Feliciane
with you. 'Tis only to elude the sentinels some dark night and once beyond
them the rest is nothing. Feliciane knows where a boat is hidden on Lake
Ponchartrain, and she would row you to the other side where you would
be met by one of my brother's comrades who would receive the things.
Then you step once more into the boat, and Mais! there you are safe and
sound in the city again."

"Why could not Feliciane go alone?" questioned Jeanne.

"My child, she has not the intelligence. One must demand nothing of these
creatures that calls for the exercise of reason. Will you go, my pet?"

"Would it be wrong, Cherie?"

"Wrong to carry food to a wounded soldier? Why should you think so, child?"

"Then it is nothing against the government?"

"No; I would not ask it of you if it were. Will you please me, Jeanne?
Your uncle would like it too."

"Yes, Cherie, I will," said Jeanne after a moment's thought. "If it is