Dear Beaurepaire! do I see you once again!"
"And madame?"
"What madame?"
"Madame Dujardin that is or was to be."
"This is the first I have ever heard of her," said Camille, gayly.
"This is odd, for we have heard all about it."
"Are you jesting?"
"No."
"If I understand you right, you imply that I have broken faith with
Josephine?"
"Certainly."
"Then you lie, Mademoiselle Rose de Beaurepaire."
"Insolent!"
"No. It is you who have insulted your sister as well as me. She was not
made to be deserted for meaner women. Come, mademoiselle, affront me,
and me alone, and you shall find me more patient. Oh! who would have
thought Beaurepaire would receive me thus?"
"It is your own fault. You never sent her a line for all these years."
"Why, how could I?"
"Well, sir, the information you did not supply others did. We know that
you were seen in a Spanish village drinking between two guerillas."
"That is true," said Camille.
"An honest French soldier fired at you. Why, he told us so himself."
"He told you true," said Camille, sullenly.
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