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"Are you not a New Orleans boy?" she asked as I lifted my képi and drew rein.

"Borrowed!" echoed the sergeant. "If he doesn't own that mare no man does."

"Nor no woman?" I asked, and again across the back of my neck my two companions gazed at each other.

"Some of our boys attacked by a rabbit," I suggested, but still hearkened.

The ladies smiled; I glowered. "Take those horses by their heads and turn them to me!"

"To what command do you belong?" he asked.

I covered it fiercely and sunk my brow upon it. And thereupon the wave of folly drew back, and on the bared sands of recollection I saw, like drowned things, my mother's face, and Gholson's and the General's, and Major Harper's, and Ned Ferry's, and Camille's. Each in turn brought its separate and peculiar pang; and among those that came a second time and with a crueler pang than before was Camille's.

"Of course no one has seen this despatch, eh?--Oh!"--a smile--"yes? who?"

"Ah!"--he gave a Creole shrug--"that you must decide, on the honor of a good soldier. She has taken you into her confidence?"

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