ng, and
then, was it not easy to ask if I were the lucky one? She knew I
loved her, I knew that she had loved me, and I might as well
confess. But no; I was not ready.

"You must be stern with the others; you must not let them tell
you," I went on.

"Ciel!" said she, laughing, "one might as well go to a nunnery.
May not a girl enjoy her beauty? It is sweet to her."

"But do not make it bitter for the poor men. Dieu! I am one of
them, and know their sorrows."

"And you--you have been in love?"

"Desperately," I answered, clinging by the finger-tips. Somehow we
kept drifting into fateful moments when a word even might have
changed all that has been--our life way, the skies above us, the
friends we have known, our loves, our very souls.

She turned, smiling, her beauty flashing up at me with a power
quite irresistible. I shut my eyes a moment, summoning all my
forces. There was only a step between me and--God knows what!

"Captain, you are a foolish fellow," said she, with a little
shudder. "And I--well, I am cold. Parbleu! feel my hand."

She had drawn her glove quickly, and held out her hand, white and
beautiful, a dainty finger in a gorget of gems. That little cold,
trembling hand seemed to lay hold of my heart and pull me to her.
As my lips touched the palm I felt its mighty magic. Dear girl! I
wonder if she planned that trial for me.

"We must--ride--faster. You--you--are cold," I stammered.

She held her hand so that the sunlight flashed in the jewels, and
looked down upon it proudly.

"Do you think it beautiful?" she asked.

"Yes, and wonderful," I said. "But, mark me, it is all a sacred
trust--the beauty you have."

"Sacred?"

"More sacred than the power of kings," I said.

"Preacher!" said she, with a smile. "You should give yourself to
the church."

"I can do better with the sword of steel," I said.

"But do not be sad. Cheer up, dear fellow!" she went on, patting
my elbow with a pretty mockery. "We women are not--not so bad.
When I find the man I love--"

Her voice faltered as she began fussing with her stirrup.

I turned with a look of inquiry, changing quickly to one of
admiration.

"I shall make him love me, if I can," she went on soberly.

"And if he does?" I queried, my blood quickening as our eyes met.

"Dieu! I would do anything for him," said she.

I turned away, looking off at the brown fields. Ah, then, for a
breath, my heart begged my will for utteranc