"Pardieu! Is it insult to couple the silver pheasant with the Eagles of
France?--a pretty idea, truly! So she is your sister, is she? Milady?
Well, then, tell her from me to think twice before she outrages a
soldier with 'patronage'; and tell her, too, that had I been he I would
have ground my ivory toys into powder before I would have let them
become the playthings of a grande dame who tendered me gold for them!"
The Englishman looked at her with astonishment that was mingled with a
vivid sense of intense annoyance and irritated pride, that the name he
cherished closest should be thus brought in, at a camp dinner, on the
lips of a vivandiere and in connection with a trooper of Chasseurs.
"I do not understand your indignation, mademoiselle," he said, with an
impatient stroke to his beard. "There is no occasion for it. Mme. Corona
d'Amague, my sister," he continued, to the officers present, "became
accidentally acquainted with the skill at sculpture of this Corporal of
yours; he appeared to her a man of much refinement and good breeding.
She chanced to name him to me, and feeling some pity--"
"M. le Duc!" cried the ringing voice of Cigarette, loud and startling
as a bugle-note, while she stood like a little lioness, flushed with the
draughts of champagne and with the warmth of wrath at once jealous and
generous, "keep your compassion until it is asked of you. No soldier of
France needs it; that I promise you.
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