“Josephine! It is not Josephine, after all,” said he. “Why, this must be Rose, little Rose, grown up to a fine lady, a beautiful lady.” “What do you come here for, sir?” asked Rose in a tone of icy indifference. “What do I come here for? is that the way to speak to me? but I am too happy to mind. Dear Beaurepaire! do I see you once again!” “And madame?” “What madame?” “Madame Dujardin that is or was to be.” “This is the first I have ever heard of her,” said Camille, gayly. “This is odd, for we have heard all about it.” “Are you jesting?” “No.” “If I understand you right, you imply that I have broken faith with Josephine?” “Certainly.” “Then you lie, Mademoiselle Rose de Beaurepaire.” “Insolent!” “No. It is you who have insulted your sister as well as me. She was not made to be deserted for meaner women. Come, mademoiselle, affront me, and me alone, and you shall find me more patient. Oh! who would have thought Beaurepaire would receive me thus?” “It is your own fault. You never sent her a line for all these years.” “Why, how could I?” “Well, sir, the information you did not supply others did. We know that you were seen in a Spanish village drinking between two guerillas.” “That is true,” said Camille. “An honest French soldier fired at you. Why, he told us so himself.” “He told you true,” said Camille, sullenly. “The bullet grazed my hand; see, here is the mark. Look!” She did look, and gave a little scream; but recovering herself, said she wished it had gone through his heart. “Why prolong this painful interview?” said she; “the soldier told us all.” “I doubt that,” said Camille. “Did he tell you that under the table I was chained tight down to the chair I sat in? Did he tell you that my hand was fastened to a drinking-horn, and my elbow to the table, and two fellows sitting opposite me with pistols quietly covering me, ready to draw the trigger if I should utter a cry? Did he tell you that I would have uttered that cry and died at that table but for one thing, I had promised her to live?” “Not he; he told me nothing so incredible. Besides, what became of you all these years? You are a double traitor, to your country and to her.” Camille literally gasped for breath. “You are a most cruel young lady to insult me so,” said he, and scalding tears forced themselves from his eyes. Rose eyed him with merciless scorn.