" The old crone stared at him with stony
disapproval. "I have but just arrived from the Crimea to buy horses
and mules for the army."
"Many?" Her manner instantly changed. This was business for her
husband, who dealt much in horseflesh.
"Thousands."
"Won't you be seated, sir? Let me take your hat. Mariqui--ta!" she
cried, with remarkable volubility. The guest was clearly entitled to
be treated with honour.
Mariquita entered hastily, expecting to be chidden, then paused shyly,
seeing who was there.
"Shamefaced, come; don't you know this gentleman?" said her aunt,
encouragingly. "Entertain him, little one, while I fetch your uncle."
"What does it mean?" asked Mariquita, in amazement, as soon as she
could release herself from her lover's embrace. "You here, Stanislas:
my aunt approving! Am I mad or asleep?"
"Neither, dearest. She sees a chance of profit out of me--that's all.
I will not baulk her. She deserves it for leaving us alone," and he
would have taken her again into his arms.
"No, no! Enough, Stanislas!" said the sweet girl, blushing a rosy red.
"Sit there and be quiet. Tell me of yourself: why you are here. The
war, then, is over? The Holy Saints be praised! How I hated that
war!"
"Do not say that, love! It has been the making of me."
"Nothing would compensate me for all that I have suffered these last
few months.
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