la
Princesse!
That was all her reward! Cigarette received the recompense that
usually comes to generous natures which have strung themselves to some
self-surrender that costs them dear.
Cecil looked at her surprised, and smiled.
"Ma belle, is it you? That is, indeed, good. You were the good angel
of my life the other night, and to-day come to bring consolation to my
friend--"
"Good angel! Chut, M. Victor! One does not know those mots sucres in
Algiers. There is nothing of the angel about me, I hope. Your friend,
too! Do you think I have never been used to taking care of my comrades
in hospital before you played the sick-nurse here?"
She spoke with all her brusque petulance in arms again; she hated that
he should imagine she had sacrificed her fete-day to Leon Ramon, because
the artist-trooper was dear to him; she hated him to suppose that she
had waited there all the hours through on the chance that he would find
her at her post, and admire her for her charity. Cigarette was far too
proud and disdainful a young soldier to seek either his presence or his
praise.
He smiled again; he did not understand the caprices of her changeful
moods, and he did not feel that interest in her which would have made
him divine the threads of their vagaries.
"I did not think to offend you, my little one," he said gently. "I meant
only to thank you for your goodness to Ramon in my absence."
Cigarette shrugged her shoulders.
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