Carmelita, for you have acted but in accordance with the dictates of your warm young heart in taking in this girl. How were you to know that this would involve me in a duel to the death with the finest shot in the Nineteenth Division, the most famous marksman in the army of Africa?"
"What?" gasped Carmelita.
"What I say, my poor girl," was the reply, uttered with calm dignity. "Your English friend, this Jean Boule, who fears to meet me face to face, and man to man, with Nature's weapons, has forced a quarrel on me over this Russian girl. He challenged me in the Canteen this night, and I, who could break him like a dried stick, must stand up to be shot by him, like a dog.… I do not blame you, Carmelita. How were you to know? …"
Carmelita suddenly sat down.
"I do not understand," she whispered and sat agape.
"The Englishman owns this girl.…"
"He brought her here," Carmelita interrupted, nodding her head.
"Ha! I guessed it.… Yes, he owns her, and when I discovered the shameless puttana's sex he drew a pistol on me, an innocent, unarmed man.… Did he tell you it was I who found the shameful hussy out? What could I do against him empty-handed? … And now I must fight him—and he can put a bullet where he will.… So kiss me, while you may, Carmelita."
With a low cry the girl sprang into his arms. "My love! My love! My husband!" she wailed, and Luigi hoped that she would release her clasp from about his neck in time for him to avoid suffocation.… Curse all women—they were the cause of
