ucumber, and the only thing that
seemed to annoy him was a possibility that the cause of his
_rencontre_ might be misrepresented to her he loved at home.

"'Tell her I was faithful to the last,' said he to me as he squeezed
my hand just before _I put him up_. 'Tell her, if I fall, that I
never loved another; that my heart is pure and spotless as that
white rose, which I will wear upon it for her sake.'

"While he spoke, he plucked a white rose from a neighbouring bush,
and in spite of my remonstrances fixed it in the breast of his
close-fitting dark coat.

"'What are you about, Charlie?' I urged. 'This is no time for
romance. Don't you know all these cursed Frenchmen are dead shots?
You might as well chalk out a bull's eye over the pit of your
stomach!'

"He was a romantic, foolish fellow. I can see him now, drawing
himself up, and looking like a knight of the olden time, with his
brightening eye, and his smooth, unruffled forehead."

"'Give her the white rose,' he only said. 'She'll keep it when it's
withered, perhaps. And tell her I never wavered--never for an
hour!'"

"I knew too well how it would be. From the instant he came on the
ground the old general never took his eye off his man. What an eye
it was! Cold and gray and leaden; half shut, like that of some wild
animal, with a pupil that contracted visibly while I watched it. I
knew my friend had no chance. I did all I could. As I had the
privilege of placing the men, I stationed our adversary where he
would have to look over his shoulder to see my signal, whilst my
friend's face was turned towards me. They were to fire when I
dropped my hat. I dropped it with a flourish. Alas! all was of no
use. The general shot him right through the heart. I knew he would;
and the bullet cut the stalk of the rose in two, smashed the lower
part of the miniature, leaving only the face untouched, and poor
Charlie Horsingham never spoke again. As we lifted him and
unbuttoned his waistcoat, the two Frenchmen gazed at the miniature
with looks of anger and curiosity. Great was their astonishment to
behold the portrait of another than Rosalie. The younger man was
much affected; he groaned aloud and covered his face with his hands.
Not so the old general. '_Tenez_,' said he, wiping the barrel of his
weapon on his glove, '_c'est dommage! je ne contais pas la-dessus;
mais, que voulez-vous? Peste! ce n'est