always brewing it in the Tuileries, but it is not ripe for the public
palate yet."

"Ah!"

"And in the mean time," said the captain, testing with his foot the
tautness of the hawser that moored the _Perseverance_ to the quay--"in
the mean time they are busy at Cherbourg and Toulon. As to the army, you
probably know that better than I, mon colonel."

And he finished with his jovial laugh. Then he jerked his thumb in the
direction of the steamer.

"Your newspapers are, no doubt, in the mail-bags," he said. "We had a
good passage, and are a full ship. Of passengers I have two--and ladies.
One, by the way, is the heiress of Mattei Perucca over at Olmeta, whom
you doubtless knew."

The colonel turned, and looked towards the steamer with some interest.

"Is that so?" he said reflectively.

"Yes; a pinched old maid in a black dress. None will marry her for her
acres. It will be a _pre sale_ with a vengeance. I caught a glimpse of
her as we came out of harbour. I did not see the other, who is young--her
niece, I understand. There she is, coming on deck now--the heiress, I
mean. She will not look her best after a night at sea."

And, with a jerk of the head, he indicated a black-clad form on the deck
of the _Perseverance._ It happened to be Mademoiselle Brun, who, as a