nt, thought them the incarnation of Love. Something in
their manifest equality of condition kept even the vainest and
most susceptible of spectators from attempted rivalry or cynical
interruption. And when at last they dropped side by side on a sun-warmed
stone bench on the terrace, and Helen, inclining her brown head towards
her companion, informed him of the difficulty she had experienced in
getting gumbo soup, rice and chicken, corn cakes, or any of her favorite
home dishes in Paris, an exhausted but gallant boulevardier rose from a
contiguous bench, and, politely lifting his hat to the handsome couple,
turned slowly away from what he believed were tender confidences he
would not permit himself to hear.

But the shadow of the trees began to lengthen, casting broad bars across
the alle, and the sun sank lower to the level of their eyes. They were
quite surprised, on looking around a few moments later, to discover that
the gardens were quite deserted, and Ostrander, on consulting his watch,
found that they had just lost a train which the other pleasure-seekers
had evidently availed themselves of. No matter; there was another train
an hour later; they could still linger for a few moments in the brief
sunset and then dine at the local restaurant before they left. They both
laughed at their forgetfulness, and then, without knowing why, suddenly
lapsed into silence. A faint wind blew in their faces and trilled the
thin leaves above their heads. Nothing else moved. The long windows
of the palace in that sunset light seemed to glisten again with the
incendiary fires of the Revolution, and then went out blankly and
abruptly. The two companions felt that they possessed the terrace and
all its memories as completely as the shadows who had lived and died
there.

"I am so glad we have had this day together," said the painter, with
a very conscious breaking of the silence, "for I am leaving Paris
to-morrow."

Helen raised her eyes quickly to his.

"For a few days only," he continued. "My Russian customers--perhaps I
ought to say my patrons--have given me a commission to make a study of
an old chateau which the princess lately bought."

A swift recollection of her fellow pupil's raillery regarding the
princess's possible attitude towards the painter came over her and gave
a strange artificiality to her response.

"I suppose you will enjoy it very much," she said dryly.

"No," he returned with the frankness that she had lack