this one," I said.

"Of course not," said she. "One does not wish to find men if she
is hunting for--for--" she hesitated a moment, blushing--"mon Dieu!
for bears," she added.

I thought then, as her beautiful eyes looked up at me smiling, that
she was incomparable, that I loved her above all others--I felt
sure of it.

"And why do you hunt bears?" I inquired.

"I do not know. I think it is because they are so--so beautiful,
so amiable!" she answered.

"And such good companions."

"Yes; they never embarrass you," she went on. "You never feel at
loss for a word."

"I fear you do not know bears."

"Dieu! better than men. Voila!" she exclaimed, touching me with
the end of her parasol. "You are not so terrible. I do not think
you would bite."

"No; I have never bitten anything but--but bread and doughnuts, or
something of that sort."

"Come, I desire to intimidate you. Won't you please be afraid of
me? Indeed, I can be very terrible. See! I have sharp teeth."

She turned with a playful growl, and parting her crimson lips,
showed them to me--white and shapely, and as even as if they had
been wrought of ivory. She knew they were beautiful, the vixen.

"You terrify me. I have a mind to run," I said, backing off,

"Please do not run," she answered quickly. "I should be afraid
that--that--"

She hesitated a moment, stirring the moss with one dainty foot.

"That you might not return," she added, smiling as she looked up at
me.

"Then--then perhaps it will do as well if I climb a tree."

"No, no; I wish to talk with you."

"Ma'm'selle, you honor me," I said.

"And dishonor myself, I presume, with so much boldness," she went
on. "It is only that I have something to say; and you know when a
woman has something to--to say--"

"It is a fool that does not listen if she be as fair as you," I put
in.

"You are--well, I shall not say what I think of you, for fear--for
fear of giving offence," said she, blushing as she spoke. "Do you
like the life of a soldier?"

"Very much, and especially when I am wounded, with such excellent
care and company."

"But your side--it was so horribly torn. I did feel very
sorry--indeed I did. You will go again to the war?"

"Unless--unless--Ah, yes, ma'm'selle, I shall go again to the war,"
I stammered, going to the brink of confession, only to back away
from it, as the blood came hot to my cheeks.

She broke a tiny bough and began stripping its leaves.