He fought manfully against this weakness, with which his wound and his fatigue had something to do, as well as Rose's bitter words; and after a gallant struggle he returned her her haughty stare, and addressed her thus: "Mademoiselle, I feel myself blush, but it is for you I blush, not for myself.This is what BECAME of me.I went out alone to explore; I fell into an ambuscade; I shot one of the enemy, and pinked another, but my arm being broken by a bullet, and my horse killed under me, the rascals got me.They took me about, tried to make a decoy of me as I have told you, and ended by throwing me into a dungeon.They loaded me with chains, too, though the walls were ten feet thick, and the door iron, and bolted and double-bolted outside.And there for months and years, in spite of wounds, hunger, thirst, and all the tortures those cowards made me suffer, I lived, because, Rose, I had promised some one at that gate there (and he turned suddenly and pointed to it) that I would come back alive.At last, one night, my jailer came to my cell drunk.Iseized him by the throat and throttled him till he was insensible;his keys unlocked my fetters, and locked him in the cell, and I got safely outside.But there a sentinel saw me, and fired at me.He missed me but ran after me, and caught me.You see I was stiff, confined so long.He gave me a thrust of his bayonet; I flung my heavy keys fiercely in his face; he staggered; I wrested his piece from him, and disabled him.""Ah!"
"I crossed the frontier in the night, and got to Bayonne; and thence, day and night, to Paris.There I met a reward for all my anguish.They gave me the epaulets of a colonel.See, here they are.France does not give these to traitors, young lady." He held them out to her in both hands.She eyed them half stupidly; all her thoughts were on the oak-tree hard by.She began to shudder.
Camille was telling the truth.She felt that; she saw it; and Josephine was hearing it."Ay! look at them, you naughty girl,"said Camille, trying to be jocose over it all with his poor trembling lip.He went on to say that from the moment he had left dark Spain, and entered fair France everybody was so kind, so sympathizing."They felt for the poor worn soldier coming back to his love.All but you, Rose.You told me I was a traitor to her and to France.""I was told so," said Rose, faintly.She was almost at her wits'
end what to say or do.
"Well, are you sorry or not sorry for saying such a cruel thing to a poor fellow?""Sorry, very sorry," whispered Rose.She could not persist in injustice, yet she did not want Josephine to hear.
"Then say no more about it; there's my hand.You are not a soldier, and did not know what you were talking about.""I am very sorry I spoke so harshly to you.But you understand.
How you look; how you pant."
"There, I will show you I forgive you.These epaulets, dear, I have never put them on.I said, no; Josephine shall put them on for me.
I will take honor as well as happiness from her dear hand.But you are her sister, and what are epaulets compared with what she will give me? You shall put them on, dear.Come, then you will be sure I bear no malice."Rose, faint at heart, consented in silence, and fastened on the epaulets."Yes, Camille!" she cried, with sudden terror, "think of glory, now; nothing but glory.""No one thinks of it more.But to-day how can I think of it, how can I give her a rival? To-day I am all love.Rose, no man ever loved a human creature as I love Josephine.Your mother is well, dear? All are well at Beaurepaire? Oh, where is she all this time?
in the house?" He was moving quickly towards the house; but Rose instinctively put out her hand to stop him.He recoiled a little and winced.
"What is the matter?" cried she.
