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The direction had been scrawled in haste, evidently, but even so, the handwriting had grace and character. Its delicacy, combined with a certain firmness and impulsive dash, expressed to Max the personality of the writer. The letter was of course from Miss DeLisle; a short note asking if he would look for her on the terrace at six-thirty. She would be alone then. Max glanced at the hall clock.
"Lift it up, child," said my aunt gently. "There are no ghosts for you, at least, in this old chest." I lifted the paper up and saw that the chest was divided into two compartments. Lying on the top of one was a small, square, inlaid box. This Mrs. DeLisle took up and carried to the window. Lifting up the cover she laid it in my lap.
"I thank you in advance, Monsieur," said Colonel DeLisle, unbending again, and a faint a very faint twinkle brightening his eyes, at the thought of the error he had nearly made, and because of Doran's blush at being mistaken for an unwelcome son-in-law. "I've done nothing, Monsieur le Colonel," stammered Max. "I had to come. I have business with a person at the Hotel Splendide.
George, knowing that he would be late, and arrived somewhat breathless on the terrace, at a quarter-past five. Miss DeLisle would forgive him when he explained. And he would explain! He was half minded to tell everything to the one human being within four thousand miles who cared. It was March, and the height of the season in Algiers.
The hardness of straining after self-control melted to sudden beauty, as Max had seen Sanda's face transfigured. Never again, it seemed to him no matter what Colonel DeLisle's actions might be could he believe him to be cruel or cold. "Ma petite," DeLisle said, with a quiver in his voice that echoed up from heartstrings swept by some spirit hand. "Can it be true?
But he remembered how he had tried to puzzle out some other way for Valdez, and how impossible it would have seemed then, that he should ever follow Manöel's example. He loved Colonel DeLisle and he had loved the Legion with all its tragedies, and been proud of his place in it.
He wrote explanations to the officer left in charge at Sidi-bel-Abbés, the man to whom he must report; but no letter could reach DeLisle for many weeks. He was entertained as the Agha's guest, being introduced to Tahar Ben Hadj and several caids invited for the bridegroom's part of the festivities.
And when I saw you I cried out before I stopped to think. Then I drew back, but it was too late. I have taken you from some duty." "I came officially with my comrades to meet General Sauvanne, who is visiting our Algerian garrisons," said DeLisle.
He decided not to interrupt the eager conversation at this moment, but to hover near, in case Miss DeLisle looked around as if thinking of him. He hardly expected her to do so, until the talk flagged, but perhaps some subtle thought-transference was like a reminding touch on her shoulder. She turned her head and saw Max Doran.
And your corporal's stripe? You'll lose it!" "What if I do? I value it more for for something Colonel DeLisle said than for itself." "I know you were an officer in your American army at home. To be a corporal must seem laughable to you. And yet, the stripe is more than just a mere stripe. It's an emblem." "I didn't mean you to think that I don't value it! I do! But I value other things more."