She coloured at this reply, and drew back, on which I added, with a low bow, while my cheek reddened also-- "Pardon me--I forget myself." "This is not the bearing or the language of an English private soldier," said she, approaching me again, placing her pretty hand upon my arm, and looking pleadingly in my face. "Madam, though but a _simple soldat--un Ecossais Gris_, I am a gentleman, and have never done aught to disgrace my name." "Then you will protect me, sir, will you not?" "As I have already done, at the peril of my life." "And _not_ take me to the camp?" "Not if safer shelter can be found." "Even if I tell you who I am?" she continued, with a proud smile. "Yes; but who----" "I am the daughter of a French soldier." "Thus you have an additional claim on my honour, madam." "Mademoiselle--I am unmarried," she urged, with the faintest approach to coquetry in her dark eyes. "And the daughter of a soldier, say you?" "Le Maréchal Duc de Broglie." "Who now commands in Germany?" I continued, with growing interest. "The same, monsieur." The scrap of conversation I had overheard between Captain Lindsay and Cornet Keith, during the night march, now flashed upon my memory. "Pray tell no one else who you are," said I, hurriedly, while looking around me. "_Pourquoi, monsieur?_" she asked, with almost hauteur. "Because I heard an officer of rank say, that he would give a hundred and fifty English guineas to have you taken prisoner, and sent to London as a trophy." She trembled and shrunk back on hearing this, lifting up her white hands deprecatingly. "Oh be not alarmed, Mademoiselle de Broglie," said I, "for I would rather die than betray you." "And how much may this reward be in French money?" "About two thousand livres." "Two thousand livres," she exclaimed, with a haughty laugh and a flashing eye; "they hold me cheap, indeed, who offer this!" "Pardon me, mademoiselle," said I, anxiously, "but I have no time to lose in having you conveyed to a place of safety. If absent from morning roll call, my punishment will not be slight. The peasantry have all fled inland----" "But surely in some farmhouse or cottage I may find shelter." "How comes it to pass the ruffian Hautois is still alive?" I asked, as we walked along the road with the bridle of my horse over my arm. "He was cast into the sea from the yard-arm of our commodore's ship, with a cannon shot at his heels." "From which the shot parted, by the rope giving way, as he sank into the water." "Parted?" "_Oui, monsieur_; so he told me; and thereupon he immediately rose to the surface and swam to the shore, while his less fortunate companion was instantly drowned." "And how came you to be in his power? pardon my curiosity." "It is most natural; I shall tell you, monsieur. Fearing that the province was to be overrun by your troops, we left our Chateau of Bourgneuf----" "We, mademoiselle?"