it be
save misery for us both!"

Yet she did not thrust the fancy from her with contemptuous nonchalance
as she had done every other of the many passions she had excited and
disdained; it had a great sadness and a greater terror for her. She
dreaded it slightly for herself.

She wished now that she had not sent for him. But it was done; it was
for sake of their old friendship; and she was not one to vainly regret
what was unalterable, or to desert what she deemed generous and right
for the considerations of prudence or of egotism.

CHAPTER XXXV.

ORDEAL BY FIRE.

Amid the mirth, the noise, the festivity, which reigned throughout the
camp as the men surrendered themselves to the enjoyment of the largesses
of food and of wine allotted to them by their Marshal's command in
commemoration of Zaraila, one alone remained apart; silent and powerless
to rouse himself even to the forced semblance, the forced endurance,
of their mischief and their pleasure. They knew him well, and they also
loved him too well to press such participation on him. They knew that
it was no lack of sympathy with them that made him so grave amid their
mirth, so mute amid their volubility. Some thought that he was sorely
wounded by the delay of the honors promised him. Others, who knew him
better, thought that it was the loss of his brother-exile which weighed
on him, and made all the scene around him full of pain. None approached
him; but while they feasted in their tents, making the celebration of
Zaraila equal to the Jour de Mazagran, he sat alone over a picket-fire
on the far outskirts of the camp.

His heart was sick within him. To remain here was to risk with every
moment that ordeal of recognition which he so utterly dreaded; and to
flee was to leave his name to the men, with whom he had served so long,
covered with obloquy and odium, buried under all the burning shame and
degradation of a traitor's and deserter's memory. The latter course was
impossible to him; the only alternative was to trust that the vastness
of that great concrete body, of which he was one unit, would suffice
to hide him from the discovery of the friend whose love he feared as he
feared the hatred of no foe. He had not been seen as he had passed the
flag-staff; there was little fear that in the few remaining hours any
chance could bring the illustrious guest of a Marshal to the outpost of
the scattered camp.

Yet he shuddered as he sat in the glow of the fire of