Barely had they marched off from the neighborhood of the marquise, when following them or rather her, with his eyes, came a young Swiss--as handsome as you would have him, ladies--perfection. Truth to tell, Tony _was_ handsome. Also truth to tell, he had fallen in love with Marie. And love, the conqueror, had even whispered to him to turn traitor to his country, and enlist in the ranks of the army, and, it need not be said, the ranks of the glorious 11th. Then he would be near _her_--then, perhaps, he should some day marry her. And he _might_ become a general. And she--she would be the general’s lady. “Why not?” He was honest (except in the matter of patriotism), good-humored, and handsome--why should she _not_ fall in love with him? But seeing the sergeant and Marie returning, he ran to shelter and to shadow immediately. “Well, but Sulpice,--why not say it as we walked along? What need to come to this quiet spot as you call it?” “Because I want to speak to you in private.” “Attention!” “You are a fine tall girl, and you are handsome.” “Is _that_ what you want to tell me in private. Why I’m told so _fifty_ times a day.” “And----” “Oh there’s an end!” “And--and you ought to look out for a husband.” “You mean a husband ought to look out for me. Plenty of time--plenty of time.” “Plenty of time? Then who was that you were talking to at our last encampment?” “Who--who? Let me see; ah, the Tyrolese youth who saved my life, you know!” “Your life? How?” “Attention! but what’s that noise?” For there was a great disturbance as though somebody was being pushed about, and as though somebody was rather objecting to it. “A spy--a spy--a spy.” And the next moment Tony was being lugged before the sergeant by as many of the brave 11th as could conveniently keep a hold on him at one and the same moment. He butting, kicking, and struggling all the while. “Spy--no spy--I want to be a soldier. “‘Tis he--’tis he.” “What the young Tyrolese, Marie?” “Of course it is, Sulpice; who else could it be? Your servant, Tyrolese--what brings you here?” “Hang him--hang him--a spy!” shrieked out a full dozen of the brave 11th. “What--hang him--who saved my life?” “Cré-é-é-é--’tis another affair that--he shall live,” decided also at least a dozen of the brave 11th. “But for him I should have been at this moment at the bottom of a frightful precipice. Yes; and he nearly lost his own life.” “Brother--he’s a brother--he shall be one of us!” was the dictum of the men of the brave 11th. “Give him a welcome. Marie--a glass of brandy.” Briskly Marie poured it out. “Long live the French--my new friends,” said the new recruit, raising his glass. “Hurrah--hurrah.” Then was heard a roll of the drum--the call to camp in fact. “Come--come--comrade,” said they to Tony. But Tony showed a desire to stay; and so also did Marie. So she called out, “Leave him with me, I’ll answer for him. You know--he’s my prisoner.”