his sufferings, but his eye was
undimmed and full of light and laughter. With him sat Jacques Haret,
dressed in Gaston Cheverny's coat, waistcoat, breeches, stockings, and
everything from his skin. He greeted me with the utmost cheerfulness
and complaisance. In parting with most of his virtues he had retained
two of the greatest--cheerfulness and courage.

"Good evening, Captain Babache," cried Gaston, in a pleasant, though
weak voice. "I swear to you by all the great gods of Olympus that from
the moment I felt your sword sticking into me I have believed Count
Saxe to be greater than Hannibal, Caesar, Alexander the Great, St.
Louis and the Cid Campeador, rolled in one."

"That is most wise of you," I replied, sitting down by him. "Believe
that always and you will keep out of trouble."

Here Jacques Haret, who was lolling in a chair, said:

"Our friend has been much concerned to know what has become of my late
leading lady, Mademoiselle Capello. It is in vain that I have
reminded him of that old Spanish malediction on an enemy: 'May you
marry an only child; may you have a law suit, win it, and have to pay
the lawyers!'"

A flush came into Gaston Cheverny's pale face, and he looked
displeased, as well he might, at hearing Mademoiselle Capello's name
in Jacques Haret's mouth. I took no notice of his question, but began
to tell Gaston Cheverny of our plans for Courland. His eyes kindled as
I spoke, and at last he filled my heart with rapture by asking,
eagerly:

"Do you think Count Saxe would take me with him?"

"With great joy!" I answered, for that was exactly what I was leading
up to. And, to tell the truth, there were very few men of Gaston
Cheverny's character and standing among us.

Jacques Haret got up and whistled.

"I must leave you now, my friend," he said to Gaston; "I am going for
a promenade. I wish you would have your shoes made of Spanish
leather--I don't like these at all. And a gentleman should always wear
silk stockings. That rascal of a valet of yours has twice brought me
woolen ones. I am a patient man, but I can't stand everything."

To this Gaston replied: "Go to the devil."

Jacques Haret went out.

Gaston Cheverny and I talked long and earnestly together. I did
everything in my power to induce him to cast his fortunes with us. At
every moment the sympathy between us grew keener. At last he said,
blushing like a girl, and fingering the love locks that hung from his
temple:

"To tell