Mariquita. "Was it to see me? It was unwise, indiscreet; my
aunt--"

"I have been on duty at Waterport," replied McKay, with a rather
ungallant frankness that made Mariquita pout.

"It is plain I am only second in your thoughts. Duty--always duty. Why
did not you come last night to the Alameda when the band played?"

"I could not, star of my soul! I was on guard."

"Did I not say so?--duty again! And to-morrow? It is Sunday; you
promised to take me to Europa to see the great cave. Is that, too,
impossible?"

McKay shook his head laughingly, and said--

"You must not be angry with me, Mariquita; our visit to Europa must be
deferred; I am on duty every day. They have made me orderly--"

"I do not believe you," interrupted the girl, pettishly. "Go about
your business! Do not trouble to come here again, Don Stanislas.
Benito will take me where I want to go."

"I will break Benito's head whenever I catch him in your company,"
said the young serjeant, with so much energy that Mariquita was
obliged to laugh. "Come, dearest, be more reasonable. It is not my
fault, you know; I am never happy away from your side. But, remember,
I am a soldier, and must obey the orders I receive."

"I was wrong to love a soldier," said Mariquita, growing sad and
serious all at once. "Some day you will get orders to march--to India,
Constantinople, Russia--where can any one say?--and I shall never see
you more."

This trouble of parting near at hand had already arisen, and
half-spoilt McKay's delight at the prospect of sailing for the East.

"Do you think I shall ever forget you? If I go, it will be to win
promotion, fame--a better, higher, more honourable position for you to
share."

It was at this moment that La Zandunga interrupted the lovers with her
resonant, unpleasant voice.

"My aunt! my aunt! Run, Stanislas! do not let her see you, in Heaven's
name!"

The Serjeant disappeared promptly, but the old virago caught a glimpse
of his retreating figure.

"With whom were you gossiping there, good-for-nothing?" cried La
Zandunga, fiercely. "I seemed to catch the colour of his coat. If I
thought it was that son of Satan, the serjeant, who is ever
philandering and following you about--Who was it, I say?"

Mariquita would not answer.

"In with you, shameless, idle daughter of pauper parents, who died in
my debt, leaving you on my hands! Is it thus that you repay me my
bounty--the home I give you--the bread you eat? Go in, jade,