Which is very true, for it is a great gain to the glory of any country to have expert historians. "We will underrate the French," I said, "for that would depreciate such triumphs as we have achieved in conflict with them." "You make very little of Americans," she said. "Do you not think that you will also have to reckon with my misguided countrymen?" "Mere louts," I said, thinking that at last I had found away to provoke her into an expression of her real opinions. "Perchance they might do something if they were trained and properly armed. But, as they are, they cannot withstand the British bayonet." She looked at me with some curiosity, at which I was gratified, but, in imitation of her own previous example, I had discharged expression from my face. "I had thought sometimes, Lieutenant Melville," she said, "that you had been moved to sympathy for these people, these rebels." "Then you are much mistaken, Miss Desmond," I said, "although I hope I am not hard of heart. I am most loyal to the king, and hope for his complete triumph. How could I be otherwise, when you, who are American-born, set me such a noble example?" "That is but the language of compliment, Lieutenant Melville," she said, "the courtly speech that you have learned in London drawing-rooms, and--pardon me for saying it--means nothing." "It might mean nothing with other men," I said, losing somewhat of my self-possession, "but it does mean something with me." "I do not understand you, Lieutenant Melville," she said, turning upon me an inquiring look. "You seem to speak in metaphors to-night." "If so," I replied, "I may again plead your noble example. I do not understand you at all to-night, Miss Desmond." "Our conversation has been of a military character," she replied, smiling for the first time. "So gallant an officer as you, Lieutenant Melville, should understand that, while all of it may well be a puzzle to me, a woman, whom the sound of a trumpet frightens, it is easy enough for you to comprehend it." "It is this time I who ask the pardon, Miss Desmond," I replied, "if I say that is the language of compliment, of the drawing-room." She made no reply, but bent forward to inhale the odor of a flower that blossomed near her. I too was silent, for I knew not whether she wished me to go or stay, or cared naught for either. From the drawing-room came the sound of music, but she made no movement to go. "I have had thoughts about you, too, Miss Desmond," I said, at length, after some minutes of embarrassment, for me at least. "I trust that such thoughts have been of a pleasant nature, Lieutenant Melville," she said, turning her deep eyes upon me again. "I have thought," I continued, "that you too felt a certain sympathy for the rebels, your misguided countrymen." "What reasons have I furnished for such a supposition?" she replied, coldly. "Are you in the habit, Lieutenant Melville, of attributing treasonable thoughts to the best friends of the king's cause."