is forever."

"What if it be hopeless?" I whispered.

"Ah! then it is very bitter," said she, her voice diminishing. "It
may kill the body, but--but love does not die. When it comes--"
There was a breath of silence that had in it a strange harmony not
of this world.

"'When it comes'?" I whispered.

"You see the coming of a great king," said she, looking down
thoughtfully, her chin, upon her hand.

"And all people bow their heads," I said.

"Yes," she added, with a sigh, "and give their bodies to be burned,
if he ask it. The king is cruel--sometimes."

"Dieu!" said I. "He has many captives."

She broke a sprig of fern, twirling it in her fingers; her big eyes
looked up at me, and saw, I know, to the bottom of my soul.

"But long live the king!" said she, her lips trembling, her cheeks
as red as the rose upon her bosom.

"Long live the king!" I murmured.

We dared go no farther. Sweet philosopher, inspired of Heaven, I
could not bear the look of her, and rose quickly with dim eyes and
went out of the open door. A revelation had come to me. Mere de
Dieu! how I loved that woman so fashioned in thy image! She
followed me, and laid her hand upon my arm tenderly, while I shook
with emotion.

"Captain," said she, in that sweet voice, "captain, what have I
done?"

It was the first day of the Indian summer, a memorable season that
year, when, according to an old legend, the Great Father sits idly
on the mountain-tops and blows the smoke of his long pipe into the
valleys. In a moment I was quite calm, and stood looking off to
the hazy hollows of the far field. I gave her my arm without
speaking, and we walked slowly down a garden path. For a time
neither broke the silence.

"I did not know--I did not know," she whispered presently.

"And I--must--tell you," I said brokenly, "that I--that I--"

"Hush-sh-sh!" she whispered, her hand over my lips. "Say no more!
say no more! If it is true, go--go quickly, I beg of you!"

There was such a note of pleading in her voice, I hear it, after
all this long time, in the hushed moments of my life, night or day.
"Go--go quickly, I beg of you!" We were both near breaking down.

[Illustration: "We were both near breaking down."]

"Vive le roi!" I whispered, taking her hand.

"Vive le roi!" she whispered, turning away.

XXV

How empty and weak are my words that try to tell of that day! I
doubt if there is in them anywhere what may suggest, even fe