“No, but it displeases me that you haven’t been frank with me. Am I not your friend?” “I believe so.” “Well, I forgive you; don’t say anything more. I will go anywhere with you. They talked of war in my country. If I could only do something to help them to conquer.” “You!” I exclaimed laughing. “Then aren’t you afraid?” “No. I am afraid of nothing but fire; and you will protect me.” “Yes, of course.” “And you will always tell me the truth?” “I promise you.” “That’s all. Good-night.” I could have kissed him if it were only possible to kiss a match. He disappeared. At that moment some one shook me. It was one of the officers who looked into my eyes. “Are you awake?” he asked me. “Yes,” I replied, sitting up. “Are you feeling sick? I am the army surgeon; my name is Tasa. Let me feel your pulse.” “But I am perfectly well.” “No, you are talking to yourself, and must have something the matter with your head.” “I assure you I am perfectly well.” “Show me your tongue.” “Not if I know myself,” I replied irritated. “All right,” concluded Dr. Tasa; “calm yourself. I see you are armed. I think it would be best for you to give me your revolver, and for you to put a little ice on your head.” “But I am not in the least crazy.” “Well, well,” and his little yellow face wrinkled up as if to say, “Who knows?” “I wasn’t talking to myself,” I said in order to convince him. “With whom were you talking?” “With Fiam....” I didn’t finish, for I remembered my promise not to reveal his presence to any one. “Humph, humph!” He shook his head and murmured, “Quiet yourself, and don’t think anything more about Fiam. Go to sleep; we shall see to-morrow.” The next morning I pretended to leave the train, and changed cars in order to escape the watchfulness of Dr. Tasa. The journey went on without incident. I didn’t dare to have Fiam come out during the day, as I was never alone. But at night he took a walk on my shoulders, and we held whispered conversations. On board the steamer on our way to China we had more liberty, and often conferred together. After our work was put away in an envelope, Fiammiferino began looking for a postage stamp in the depths of the portfolio. He went in and traveled all about the leather, explored the little pockets, and came out with amazing dexterity. He had a passion for putting on postage stamps after I had wet them. He walked over them, carefully pressing the edges flat with his feet to be sure they would stick fast to the envelope; when he had finished this operation, which he did as carefully as an upholsterer laying a carpet, he always danced a ballet to express his satisfaction in his completed work. [Illustration: Fiammiferino Has a Bath] CHAPTER X FIAMMIFERINO HAS A BATH