and sleeping among those men—some of them such dreadful men). Yes, it should be a wedding to remember, without stint of food or drink—un pranzo di tre portate with i maccheroni and la frittate d'uova and the best of couscous, and there should be vino Italiano—they would welcome a change from the eternal vino Algerino.…
Four Legionaries entered, and Carmelita rose with a smile to greet them. There was no one she would sooner see than Il Signor Jean Boule and his friends—since it was not Luigi who entered.
"Che cosa posso offrirve?" she asked. (Although Carmelita spoke Legion French fluently one noticed that she always welcomed one in Italian, and always counted in that language.)
"I want a quiet talk with you, carissima Carmelita," said John Bull. "We are in great trouble, and we want your help."
"I am glad," replied Carmelita. "Not glad that you are in trouble, but glad you have come to me."
"It is about Mikhail Kyrilovitch," said the Englishman.
"I thought it was," said Carmelita.
"Don't think me mad, Carmelita," continued John Bull, "but listen. Mikhail Kyrilovitch is a girl."
"Don't think me mad, Signor Jean Boule," mimicked Carmelita, "but listen. I have known Mikhail Kyrilovitch was a girl from the first evening that she came here."
The Englishman's blue eyes opened widely in surprise, as he stared at the girl. "How?" he asked.
"Oh, in a dozen ways," laughed Carmelita. "Hands,
