"Monsieur is of England, then?"

"Monseigneur, I am an English officer."

"You speak French well, monsieur."

"Which serves me well in France, as you see, monseigneur."

The Duke was a trifle nettled. "Where were you born, monsieur?"

There was a short pause, and then the prisoner, who had enjoyed the
other's perplexity, said:

"On the Isle of Jersey, monseigneur."

The petulant look passed immediately from the face of the Duke; the
horizon was clear at once.

"Ah, then, you are French, monsieur!"

"My flag is the English flag; I was born a British subject, and I shall
die one," answered the other steadily.

"The sentiment sounds estimable," answered the Duke; "but as for life and
death, and what we are or what we may be, we are the sport of Fate." His
brow clouded. "I myself was born under a monarchy; I shall probably die
under a Republic. I was born a Frenchman; I may die--"

His tone had become low and cynical, and he broke off suddenly, as though
he had said more than he meant. "Then you are a Norman, monsieur," he