The syllables fell one by one, distinct and heavy. The Spanish was elaborately cermonious, but the accent was Mexican and almost gutteral. "L'impertinent!" cried Ney, bounding to his feet. No diffidence cloyed his manner now. He was on familiar ground at last, for the first time since fighting Arabs in Algeria. He was supremely happy too, and as mad as a Gaul can be. "L'impertinent!" he repeated, coaxingly. "Now don't be ridiculous, Michel," said Jacqueline. "He can't understand you." Moreover, the fame of the Chasseurs, of those colossal heroes with their terrible sabres, of their legendary prowess in the Crimea, in China, in Italy, in Africa, none of it seemed to daunt the Mexican in the least. "How, little Soldier-Boy Blue?" he inquired with cumbrous pleasantry. "Alas, senor," said Jacqueline, "he's quite a little brother to dragons." "What are you talking about?" Michel demanded. "I am keeping you from being eaten up, young sire, but," and Jacqueline's tone changed, "pray give yourself the trouble to be calm. He only means a kindly offer of service, no doubt, however strange that may seem to your delicacy of breeding, Monsieur the Duke." Michel heaved a sigh and--sat down. He was no longer on familiar ground. Then Fra Diavolo proceeded to verify mademoiselle's judgment of him. Sombrero in hand and with a pompous courtliness, he repeated his natural supposition that the senorita was on her way to the City (meaning the City of Mexico), and perhaps to the court of His Glorious Majesty, Maximiliano. He offered himself, therefore, in case he might have the felicity to be of use. This she need not consider as personal, if it in any way offended, but as an official courtesy, since she saw in him an officer--an officer of His Most Peace-loving Majesty's Contra Guerrillas. And thus to a conclusion, impressively, laboriously. Jacqueline was less delighted than at first. The dash and daredeviltry was somehow not quite sustained. But she replied that he had surmised correctly, and added that she was Mademoiselle d'Aumerle. He started at the name, and her eyes sparkled to note the effect. "The Marquesa Juana de Aumerle!" he repeated. "Jeanne d'Aumerle, no other, sir," she assured him, but she watched him quizzically, for she knew that another name was hovering on his lips. "Surely not----" he began. "Si senor," and she smiled good humoredly, "I am--'Jacqueline.'" It was a name that had sifted from the court down into distant plebeian corners of the Mexican Empire, and it was tinged--let us say so at once--with the unpleasing hue of notoriety. "His Ever Considerate Majesty Maximiliano would be furious if any harm should befall Your Ladyship," Fra Diavolo observed, "though," he added to himself, "the empress would possibly survive it."