"What! You are Reinhart of Falkenstein's troop?" said he, in a voice which somehow conveyed an insult in its very tones. "I remember you were always a sulky bear. Well, have you heard from home lately?" "No, my captain," answered Caspar, respectfully, his heart giving a sudden leap as a gleam of hope came over him. "I have never heard a word from my wife since I left her. May I ask if any letters have come?" "Not that I know of," answered Captain Burger. "I fancy the women have something else to do. Your wife may have donned her widow's veil and taken it off again before this time, as I hear many another has done." For a moment, the old hate blazed up in Caspar's heart and shone out at his eyes. Then the bitter feeling of disappointment drowned everything else. He bit his pale lips and turned away. "Burger, you are a brute," said André, in honest indignation.—"There! Never mind, my man," he added, hastily and in a low tone as he caught sight of Caspar's face. "Don't get yourself into trouble. I dare say your good wife has written before now. The mails are very uncertain." "Have no fear for me, my officer," answered Caspar, quietly. "He who kicks a fettered man exercises his valour in safety.—Will it please you to tell us what to do next? I think there is no more fear of this." "Smith, you shall pay for this," said Burger, pale with rage in his turn. "Hold your tongue, man, can't you?" said André, drawing him away. "Let the smith alone. He is a fine fellow, and shall not be insulted—while he is working for me, at least." It was not for Burger's interest to quarrel with his companion, so he smoothed his plumes and affected to treat the matter as of no consequence: "Well, well, let it go. He is a good smith, as you say, and might rise, only for his sulky temper." "He must have wit, or he would not have learned English so readily," remarked André. "I was telling him yesterday that he ought to be employed in secret service, as nobody would know him from a German born in the country. I don't think, however, that he relished the notion." A light not good to see shone in Burger's eyes for a moment. "Yes, as you say, he would make a good spy.—I wonder I never thought of that," he added, more to himself than to his companion. "To be sure, he might desert, but then I should be rid of him." "Why in the name of wonder should you wish to be rid of him?" asked André, in surprise. "I should think such a workman would be invaluable. I never saw a better piece of work than he has made of that screen." "Oh, he is such a sulky dog. You heard how he answered me—or you, rather." "And what wonder, when you spoke as you did? Suppose any one had hinted such a thing about your wife, supposing you had one?" "Major André, such language as this from one gentleman to another—"