Havannah cigars.  “He has grown to be like a common soldier,” Adela said to herself with an amazed contemplation of the family tie.  Still, she worked on his behalf, having, as every woman has, too strong an instinct as to what is natural to us to believe completely in any eccentric assertion.  She carried the tale of his grief and trials and his romantic devotion to the Imperial flag, daily to Countess Lena; persisting, though she could not win a responsive look from Lena’s face.

One day on the review-ground, Wilfrid beheld Prince Radocky bending from his saddle in conversation with Weisspriess.  The prince galloped up to General Pierson, and stretched his hand to where Wilfrid was posted as marker to a wheeling column, kept the hand stretched out, and spoke furiously, and followed the General till he was ordered to head his regiment.  Wilfrid began to hug his musket less desperately.  Little presents—­feminine he knew by the perfumes floating round them,—­gloves and cigars, fine handkerchiefs, and silks for wear, came to his barracks.  He pretended to accuse his sister of sending them.  She in honest delight accused Lena.  Lena then accused herself of not having done so.

It was winter:  Vittoria had been seen in Milan.  Both Lena and Wilfrid spontaneously guessed her to be the guilty one.  He made a funeral pyre of the gifts and gave his sister the ashes, supposing that she had guessed with the same spirited intuition.  It suited Adela to relate this lover’s performance to Lena.  “He did well!” Lena said, and kissed Adela for the first time.  Adela was the bearer of friendly messages to the poor private in the ranks.  From her and from little Jenna, Wilfrid heard that he was unforgotten by Countess Lena, and new hopes mingled with gratitude caused him to regard his situation seriously.  He confessed to his sister that the filthy fellows, his comrades, were all but too much for him, and asked her to kiss him, that he might feel he was not one of them.  But he would not send a message in reply to Lena.  “That is also well!” Lena said.  Her brother Karl was a favourite with General Pierson.  She proposed that Adela and herself should go to Count Karl, and urge him to use his influence with the General.  This, however, Adela was disinclined to do; she could not apparently say why.  When Lena went to him, she was astonished to hear that he knew every stage of her advance up to the point of pardoning her erratic lover; and even knew as much as that Wilfrid’s dejected countenance on the night when Vittoria’s marriage was published in the saloon of the duchess on Lake Como, had given her fresh offence.  He told her that many powerful advocates were doing their best for the down-fallen officer, who, if he were shot, or killed, would still be gazetted an officer.  “A nice comfort!” said Lena, and there was a rallying exchange of banter between them, out of which she drew the curious discovery that Karl had one of his strong admirations for the English lady.  “Surely!” she said to herself; “I thought they were all so cold.”  And cold enough the English lady seemed when Lena led to the theme.  “Do I admire your brother, Countess Lena?  Oh! yes;—­in his uniform exceedingly.”