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

"No," he said, "my last name is Durand." He gave it the French pronunciation.

Whereat Cécile replied, "Ah--well! we cou'n' like you the leaz bit any-'ow."

"What do you see?" His frown scared me to my finger-tips.

"You'd best not know; I want you to seem to have stumbled upon the place. You can't miss it; there's no other house within two miles of it. Good-bye, my lad;"--he gave me his hand;--"good luck to you."

"Too warm?"

I stiffened proudly, turned and mounted my steed, but her eyes drew mine. I pressed close, bent over the saddle-bow, and said, "Good-bye, Camille."

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