something I wish to say."

"A pretty girl is better than meat," I answered quickly. "I am
indebted to you."

"My! but you have a ready tongue," said she. "It is with me a
pleasure to listen. You are going away? You shall not
return--perhaps?"

She was trying to look very gay and indifferent, but in her voice I
could detect a note of trouble. The flame of passion, quenched for
a little time by the return of peril and the smoke of gunpowder,
flashed up in me.

"It is this," she went on: "I may wish you to do me a favor. May I
have your address?"

"And you may command me," I said as I gave it to her.

"Have a care!" she said, laughing. "I may ask you to do desperate
things--you may need all your valor. The count and the
baroness--they may send us back to France."

"Which will please you," I remarked.

"Perhaps," she said quickly. "Mon Dieu! I do not know what I
want; I am a fool. Take this. Wear it when you are gone. Not
that I care--but--it will make you remember."

She held in her fingers a flashing emerald on a tiny circlet of