'Playing with hearts, as usual,' said he, with a laugh that had no sound in it, as he took her hand and bowed curtly to Cecil. 'How dare you say so!' she replied, while a flush crossed her face, and an expression of irritation came into it for a moment. After a little pause, the visitor said, after she requested him to be seated: 'I have just heard from old Theodore of what had befallen the Herr Lieutenant. I have also heard, but at head-quarters, that he has important despatches from the King to General Tchernaieff. There was a fear that you had lost your way, or fallen into the enemy's hands, and I volunteered to come in search of you.' 'For that I thank you, Captain Guebhard; and as for the despatches---- 'You will please to hand them over to me.' 'Pardon me,' said Cecil, and paused, while a dark gleam crossed the eyes of Guebhard. 'How is your arm--well, I suppose?' he asked, with the slightest approach to a sneer. 'If well, I should not be loitering at Palenka.' 'You are nearly able to handle your sword, I presume?' he continued, in a more marked tone, while playing alternately with the tassel of his sabre and his long black moustache. 'Very nearly, Captain Guebhard; but it is not the habit with British officers to bring their swords into a drawing-room among ladies.' 'Very likely; but I am a Servian officer, and I hope you consider yourself one now.' There was something quietly offensive in the tone and bearing of Guebhard that irritated Cecil. The latter remembered the pieces of music inscribed with the monogram of the captain, and their disappearance too. He also remembered that Margarita had spoken of Guebhard's jealousy--that he was jealous as Jelitza, of the Servian legend and proverb; and Cecil thought there could be no jealousy without some love, or what passed as such. What were, or had been, the relations between Margarita and Guebhard in past time--and how were they situated now? That he came freely and installed himself as a privileged _ami du maison_ was evident, and as such he was warmly welcomed by the countess. But on what footing--as a friend of the absent count, as the _fiancé_ of Margarita, or as a relation of the family? So Cecil felt puzzled as well as irritated, and when again asked for his despatches, he plainly and firmly declined to give them up to Guebhard, though a superior officer. 'I fear I have interrupted your performance,' said the latter, abruptly changing the subject; 'does the Herr Lieutenant sing?' he asked of Margarita. 'Yes--with power and skill,' she replied promptly; 'but when you entered I was just about to sing to him.' 'What?' '"The Wishes."' Cecil urged her to begin, and placed the music before her, on which she sang both sweetly and effectively the little Servian song so-called, and of which the first verse runs thus, and is peculiar in its idea: