he sort
of assumption by which he called a sergeant an officer.

"In that case I need not have troubled you," he replied; "I could have
found a dozen seconds. But my antagonist is a commissioned officer--a
lieutenant of the same regiment with myself, although in a different
squadron."

"The devil he is!" I exclaimed. "That becomes a case for
court-martial."

"Undoubtedly," replied Oakley, "for me, but no harm can accrue to you.
I am your countryman; I come to you in plain clothes and ask you to be
my second in a duel. You consent; we go on the ground and meet another
man, apparently a civilian, of whose military quality or grade you are
in no way supposed cognisant. Duels occur daily in France, as you
know, and no notice is taken of them, even when fatal. I assure you
there is no danger for you."

"I was not thinking of myself. But if you escape unhurt from the
encounter, you will be shot for attempting the life of your superior."

Oakley shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, "I know that, but must
take my chance;" but made no other reply to my remark.

"I will tell you the circumstances," he said, "and you shall judge
for yourself if I can avoid the duel. When talking to you of my kind
old colonel, I did not tell you of his only daughter, Bertha de
Bellechasse, the most beautiful and fascinating of her sex. On our
return from Africa, the colonel, in his gratitude for the man who had
saved his life, presented me to his wife and child, pronouncing at the
same time an exaggerated encomium on my conduct. The ladies gave me
their hands to kiss, and had I shed half my blood in saving that of
the colonel, I should have been more than repaid by Bertha's gracious
smile, and by her warm expression of thanks to her father's preserver.
Madame de Bellechasse, I suspect, was about to give me her purse, but
was checked by a sign from her husband, who doubtless told them, after
my departure, as much as he knew of my history,--that I was a
foreigner and a gentleman, whom circumstances had driven to don the
coarse vest of the private dragoon. He may perhaps have added some of
the romantic stories current in the regiment when I first joined. I
had never been communicative concerning my past life, which I felt was
nothing to boast of; and regimental gossips had drawn upon their
invention for various strange tales about the Milord Anglais. When
I became domesticated in the corps, and my country was almost
forgotten, these fictitiou