e
ladies to an inn for breakfast, wrote a report, and went for my
horse and uniform. General Brown was buttoning his suspenders when
they admitted me to his room.

"What luck, my boy?" said he.

"All have returned safely, including the ladies," I replied
quickly, "and I have the honor to submit a report."

He took a chair, and read the report carefully, and looked up at
me, laughing.

"What a lucky and remarkable young man!" said he. "I declare, you
should have lived in the Middle Ages."

"Ah, then I should not have enjoyed your compliments or your
friendship," was my answer.

He laughed again heartily.

"Nor the demoiselles'," said he. "I congratulate you. They are
the loveliest of their sex; but I'm sorry they're not Americans."

"Time enough. I have decided that one of them shall become an
American," said I, with all the confidence of youth.

"It is quite an undertaking," said he. "You may find new
difficulties. Their father is at the chateau."

"M'sieur de Lambert?" I exclaimed.

"M'sieur de Lambert. Came yesterday, via Montreal, with a fine
young nobleman--the Count Esmon de Brovel," said he. "You must
look out for him; he has the beauty of Apollo and the sword of a
cavalier."

"And I no fear of him," I answered soberly, with a quick sense of
alarm.

"They rode over in the afternoon with Chaumont," he went on. "It
seems the young ladies' father, getting no news of them, had become
worried. Well, you may go and have three days for your fun; I
shall need you presently."

Breakfast over, I got a team for the ladies, and, mounting my own
horse, rode before them. I began to consider a very odd thing in
this love experience. While they were in captivity I had begun to
think less of Louison and more of Louise. In truth, one face had
faded a little in my memory; the other, somehow, had grown clearer
and sweeter, as if by a light borrowed from the soul behind it.
Now that I saw Louison, her splendid face and figure appealed to me
with all the power of old. She was quick, vivacious, subtle,
aggressive, cunning, aware and proud of her charms, and ever making
the most of them. She, ah, yes, she could play with a man for the
mere pleasure of victory, and be very heartless if--if she were not
in love with him. This type of woman had no need of argument to
make me feel her charms. With her the old doubt had returned to
me; for how long? I wondered. Her sister was quite her
antithesis--thou