of the Company marksman, or of being branded for ever as Rivoli the Coward was an unpleasant one.… Should he choose steel and have a dagger-fight with sword-bayonets? No, he absolutely hated cold steel, and his mighty strength would be almost as useless to him as in a shooting-duel. Suppose he selected sword-bayonets, to be used as daggers—held his in his left hand, seized his enemy's right wrist, broke his arm, and then made a wrestle of it after all? He could strangle him or break his back with ease. And suppose he missed his snatch at the Englishman's wrist? The devil's bayonet would be through his throat in a second! … But why these vain and discomforting imaginings? Ten francs would buy a hundred bravos in the Village Négre and slums, if Malvin failed him.…
He turned into Carmelita's alley and entered the Café.
Carmelita, whose eyes had rarely left the door throughout the evening, saw him as he entered, and her face lit up as does a lantern when the wick is kindled. Here was her noble and beautiful Luigi. Away with all wicked doubts and fears. Even the good Jean Boule was prejudiced against her Luigi She would now hear his version of the discovery of the Russian girl. How amused he would be to know that she had guessed Mikhail's secret long ago.
Rivoli passed behind the bar. Carmelita held open the door of her room, and having closed it behind him, turned and flung her arms round his neck.
"Marito amato!" she murmured as she kissed him again and again. How could she entertain these doubts of her Luigi in his absence? She was a wicked,
