Her eyes wavered, for the first time, and the red flush swept over her face. But she recovered herself quickly.
"Then say nothing about it, if you would serve me," she said, and rising abruptly she went into the house.
Marcel and I had some leisure the next morning at our quarters.
"Marcel," said I, "I wish to talk to you on a matter of serious import."
"It must be of very high import, in truth," said Marcel, "if I may judge of its nature from the solemn look that clothes your face like a shroud."
"It is no matter of jest," I replied, "and it is of close concern to us both."
"Very well," replied Marcel, carelessly, flinging himself into a chair. "Then let it be kept a secret no longer."
"It is this, Marcel," I replied, and I was in deep earnest. "I am tired of the false characters we have taken upon ourselves. The parts are awkward. We do not fit in them. We have been required to serve against our own people. Only luck, undeserved luck, has saved us from the rope. I want to reassume my own character and my own name, to be myself again."
I spoke with some heat and volubility. I was about to add that I was sorry ever to have gone into such a foolish enterprise, but the thought of a fair woman's face recalled the words. And this brought me another thought--that I was unwilling to continue this false _rôle_ with Mary Desmond's eyes upon me.
"Is that all?" asked Marcel, beginning to whistle a gay dancing-tune which some newly arrived officers had brought over from London.
"No, it is not," I replied. "I said I wished to be myself again, and that I mean to be."
"I think I shall do likewise," said Marcel, cutting off his tune in the beginning. "I am tired of this piece of stage-play myself, but I wanted you to say so first."
"It is time to leave it off," I added, "and go back to our duty."
"You speak truly," said Marcel. "It would not be pleasant to be killed by American bullets, or be forced to fire upon our old comrades. And yet the adventure has not been without interest. Moreover, let it not be forgotten that we have had plenty to eat, a good luck which we knew not for two years before."
He said the last in such a whimsical tone of regret that I laughed despite myself.
"There is no need to laugh," said Marcel. "A good dinner is a great item to a starving man, and, as you know, I am not without experience in the matter of starvation."