“You could scarcely have come more apropos, sir. The conversation was entirely of yourself,” said she, haughtily, as if in defiance of him. “How could I possibly have merited so great an honor, Mademoiselle?” replied he, bowing with the deepest respect; “or is it to the kindness of a _friend_ I am indebted for such interest?” There was an evident sneer in the way he uttered the word “friend,” while a sidelong glance he gave beneath his deep eyelashes was still more decisive of his feeling. “Few probably owe more to their friends than the Chevalier Duchesne,” said mademoiselle, tauntingly, as she took my arm to return to the _salon_. “True, most true!” replied he, with a low and deferential bow; “and I hope I am not the man to forget my debts to either friends or enemies.” I turned round rapidly as he said this. Our eyes met, and we exchanged a short, brief glance of open defiance. His, however, as quickly changed; and an easy smile of careless indifference succeeded, as he lounged after us towards the _salon_, where now a considerable number of persons were assembled, and a more than usual excitement prevailed. Some generals of the imperial staff were also there; and the rumor ran that the negotiations with England had been suddenly interrupted, and that the negotiators had demanded their passports. “That is not all, Madame,” said an old officer to the countess. “The accounts from Mayence are threatening. Large bodies of Prussian troops are reported on the march from the eastward. The telegraph has been actively at work since noon, and several couriers have been sent off from the War Office.” “What is to come next?” said the countess, sighing, as she thought of Paris once more deserted by its gay Court and brilliant crowd of officers, the only society of the period. “What next, Madame?” said Duchesne, taking up the word. “_Parbleu!_ the thing is easily told. A conscription, a march, a bivouac, and a battle will form act the first. Then a victory; and a bulletin and an imperial edict, showing that Prussia, both by her language and geographical position, was intended by Providence to belong to France; that Prussians have no dearer wish than to be thrashed and taxed,--the honor of becoming a portion of the Grande Nation being an ample recompense for any misfortune.” “And so it is, Monsieur,” broke in a bluff, hard-featured veteran, whose coarse and weather-beaten traits bespoke one risen from the ranks; “he is no Frenchman who says otherwise.” “To your good health, Colonel,” said Duchesne, as he lifted a glass of champagne to his lips. “Such patriotism is really refreshing in our degenerate days. I wish you every success in your campaign; though what is to reward your valor in that miserable land of beer and Protestantism I cannot possibly conceive.” “To-morrow; let me see you to-morrow, in the afternoon.” said mademoiselle, in a whisper, as she passed close to me.