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"Well,--yes,--he--he is,--with some."

And then he told me about himself. He was a graduate of West Point, the only one on the brigade staff; was a widower, with a widowed brother, a maiden sister, two daughters, and a niece, all of one New Orleans household. The brothers and sister were Charlestonians, but the two men had married in New Orleans, twin sisters in a noted Creole family. The brother's daughter, I was told, spoke French better than English; the Major's elder daughter spoke English as perfectly as her father; and the younger, left in her aunt's care from infancy, knew no French at all. I wondered if they were as handsome as their white-haired father, and when I asked their names I learned that the niece, Cécile, was a year the junior of Estelle and as much the senior of Camille; but of the days of the years of the pilgrimage of any of the three "children" he gave me no slightest hint; they might be seven years older, or seven years younger, than his new clerk.

As the rider wheeled away I blurted out with anxious loudness in the general hubbub, "Isn't his brother with him?"

"Oh! that-a-way."

"What do you mean?" I demanded. "To whom are you pledged for any such--"

"She air!" He was pleased. "Yass, we all good frien's togetheh."

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