light which a shaded lamp casts on a gaming-table.

"Those fiends of soldiers are always as thick as thieves at a fair!"
said a diplomate who had been looking on, as he took Soulanges' place.
One single pallid and fatigued face turned to the newcomer, and said
with a glance that flashed and died out like the sparkle of a diamond:
"When we say military men, we do not mean civil, Monsieur le
Ministre."

"My dear fellow," said Montcornet to Soulanges, leading him into a
corner, "the Emperor spoke warmly in your praise this morning, and
your promotion to be field-marshal is a certainty."

"The Master does not love the Artillery."

"No, but he adores the nobility, and you are an aristocrat. The Master
said," added Montcornet, "that the men who had married in Paris during
the campaign were not therefore to be considered in disgrace. Well
then?"

The Comte de Soulanges looked as if he understood nothing of this
speech.

"And now I hope," the Colonel went on, "that you will tell me if you
know a charming little woman who is sitting under a huge
candelabrum----"

At these words the Count's face lighted up; he violently seized the
Colonel's hand: "My dear General," said he, in a perceptibly altered
voice, "if any man but you had asked me such a question, I would have