ould be far more pleasant to marry a King than fling a bomb at him,
and I have met several young ladies almost as pretty as you who were
ready enough to adopt the latter alternative. At any rate you will take
no harm by crossing the Danube. It is not the Rubicon, you know, and you
have Saint Peter to lean on in case of difficulty."

So Felix did not return to Paris alone, and when he met Count Julius
Marulitch next morning in the Louvre he was able to announce that Miss
Joan Vernon had accepted the commission to copy the Delgratz Saint Peter
and was ready to start for Kosnovia by the night mail.

CHAPTER VI

JOAN GOES INTO SOCIETY

Joan did not telegraph to Alec. She destroyed each of half a dozen
attempts, and ended by taking refuge in silence. It was impossible to
say what she had to say in the bald language of a telegram. Merely to
announce her departure from Paris would put her in the false position of
having accepted Alec's proposal apparently without reserve, which was
exactly what she meant not to do, and any other explanation of the
journey would bewilder him.

Her friend Leontine, housemaid at the Chope de la Sorbonne, did not fail
to tell her of Alec's call the day she left Paris for Barbizon. There
was no mistaking Leontine's description, which was impressionist to a
degree. It was evident, then, that he not only possessed her address, as
shown by the letter, but knew of her absence. So she reasoned that if he
did not hear from her within forty-eight hours he would assume that she
was still away from home. By that time she would be in Delgratz, and,
although she felt some uneasiness at the prospect, she was brave enough
not to shirk meeting him.

They were not children that they should be afraid of speaking their
thoughts, nor lovesick romanticists, apt to be swayed wholly by
sentiment, and she could trust Alec to see the folly of rushing into a
union that might imperil his career. In the depths of her heart she
confessed herself proud and happy at the prospect of becoming his wife;
but she would never consent to a marriage that was not commended by
prudence. Better, far better, they should part forever than that the
lapse of a few months should prove how irretrievably she had ruined him.

This might be sound commonsense, but it was not love, yet all this, and
more, Joan said to Felix Poluski, and the little man had nodded his head
with grins of approval. Meanwhile, he sang and was busy.

Cou