e
people, so they were all in the fields, dancing and feasting and no
one saw us go or come from the church. It was a beautiful day, but at
sunset, while we were in the church, a terrible thunderstorm came up.
That frightened me a little; it did not seem a good omen."

"And this world is governed, not by the laws of God and Nature, but by
omens," I replied gravely. Francezka did not laugh at this. Truly, as
she said, she was not without superstition.

"Gaston comforted me, and I soon recovered my spirits. My aunt left
next day for Brussels, on her way to Scotland. Gaston remained with me
a week. Old Peter and my good old Elizabeth, who is Peter's sister,
managed to keep Gaston's presence a secret. We had one week of perfect
happiness. How many of God's creatures, think you, can say as much?"

"Few," I replied. "Certainly not Babache, captain of Uhlans."

"The recollection of that week of happiness is a treasure that can not
be taken away from me. Even the gods can not recall their gifts,"
continued Francezka. "My marriage seems to me like a covenant made in
a dream. My happiness, however, was very real. Gaston was in the
country some days longer," she went on, "and we had three brief
meetings. Once, with old Peter, I rode to Brussels by night, to spend
one half hour with Gaston--he was only stopping long enough to get
fresh horses--and he came here for an hour to bid me one last
farewell. When we parted, it was with the full expectation of his
return in November, when our marriage was to be proclaimed, and we
were to go to Paris for the winter.

"When the campaign opened, I was to follow Gaston as early as
possible, for he was determined not to leave me at Capello after it
was known that I was his wife, until the war should be over. But, as
you know, he was sent far away. You know, Babache, I am not the woman
to swerve a man from his duty. I love Gaston's honor even more than I
love him. And so, hard as the separation is, I thank God that he is
the man to choose his duty first. I felt that at our parting--which,
like our meeting, was in this Italian garden. I love this spot more
than ever now, because from here I can see the highroad, along which
Gaston will return to me. Here, Bold and I come once every day,
generally at sunset, to watch for the coming of the master of both of
us. It is one of my cherished fancies--superstitions, I suppose you
would call it--that in this spot Gaston and I shall meet again. I
shal