Unconsciously the French soldier replied as to a superior officer. "I've just been transferred to the service of His Excellency, Marshal Bazaine, in the City of Mexico, and am on my way there now." "You are in the French service?" "Of course I am." "Your rank?" "Sergeant." Here, in a caprice of kind heart, as well as of mischief, Jacqueline interposed. "Your sergeant, Monsieur the American, is the Duke of Elchingen." But she might have called Ney a genus homo, for all the impression it made. "Too bad, sergeant," said Driscoll, "but a captain ranks first, you know, and--well, I reckon I'll have to change sides. I know it's tough," and his brow knitted with droll perplexity, "but I'm afraid we'll just have to do this thing all over again, unless--well, unless you give in, sergeant." Jacqueline had been waxing more and more agog, and her boot had tapped impatiently. Now she gave way, and declared that it was too much. What, she demanded, had monsieur to do with the matter in the first place? Driscoll took off his slouch hat and ran his fingers through his hair to grope for an answer. It had never been brought to him before that fighting might be a private preserve. But his face cleared straightway. In this second skirmish, due momentarily, he would be a legitimate belligerent and not a trespasser, because since he had stumbled amuck of Maximilian's authority, another joust was needed to correct the first. It all depended on whether Miss--Miss--if the senorita--still wished to go by land. "If monsieur will have the condescension," returned Jacqueline. Then out came the brace of navies once more, as naturally as the order book of the grocer's clerk on your back porch. Involuntarily Ney reached for his cap. "Now captain," said Driscoll. Fra Diavolo took the cue instantly. "A-i, mis muchachos!" he called, and the little demons came hurrying back, like a damned host with a new hope of heaven. If there were any police about, or had been, they were mysteriously indifferent. But Jacqueline did just as well. No one had thought to put her back in the cafe, and she promptly took a hand in the man's game. "Michel Ney," she commanded, "do you hear me; lower that pistol!" "You, you wish me to surrender, mademoiselle?" "You know I don't! If anyone even asks it, I will go back to the ship with you, at once." "But I, I don't understand." "You understand that I want your escort overland. Is it gallant, then, to disappoint me by getting yourself killed?" "But all your trunks are on the ship." Jacqueline turned to her Fra Diavolo. He could answer that? To be sure he could, and he was honored. He suggested, with her permission, that she spend the night on shore, she and her maid, since the cafe was also a hotel. Meantime, the sailors could bring what she needed from the boat.