ne saw the vibration, and
shot a glance at her out of the dark depths of almond-shaped eyes with
purpled lids, and those faint lines about them which tell of pleasures
as costly as painful fatigue. With those eyes upon her, she said--'Your
address?'

"'What want of address!'

"'Oh, pshaw!' she said, smiling. 'A bird on the bough?'

"'Good-bye, madame, you are such a woman as I seek, but my fortune is
far from equaling my desire----'

"He bowed, and there and then left her. Two days later, by one of the
strange chances that can only happen in Paris, he had betaken himself to
a money-lending wardrobe dealer to sell such of his clothing as he could
spare. He was just receiving the price with an uneasy air, after long
chaffering, when the stranger lady passed and recognized him.

"'Once for all,' cried he to the bewildered wardrobe dealer, 'I tell you
I am not going to take your trumpet!'

"He pointed to a huge, much-dinted musical instrument, hanging up
outside against a background of uniforms, civil and military. Then,
proudly and impetuously, he followed the lady.

"From that great day of the trumpet these two understood one another to
admiration. Charles Edward's ideas on the subject of love are as sound
as possible. According to him, a man cannot love twice, there is but one
love in his lifetime, but that love is a deep and shoreless sea. It may
break in upon him at any time, as the grace of God found St. Paul; and a
man may live sixty years and never know love. Perhaps, to quote Heine's
superb phrase, it is 'the secret malady of the heart'--a sense of the
Infinite that there is within us, together with the revelation of the
ideal Beauty in its visible form. This love, in short, comprehends both
the creature and creation. But so long as there is no question of this
great poetical conception, the loves that cannot last can only be taken
lightly, as if they were in a manner snatches of song compared with Love
the epic.

"To Charles Edward the adventure brought neither the thunderbolt signal
of love's coming, nor yet that gradual revelation of an inward fairness
which draws two natures by degrees more and more strongly each to each.
For there are but two ways of love--love at first sight, doubtless akin
to the Highland 'second-sight,' and that slow fusion of two natures
which realizes Plato's 'man-woman.' But if Charles Edward did not love,
he was loved to distraction. Claudine found love made complete, body
and