then she turned her head toward the
meadow.

A deadened report shook the summer air--the sound of a cannon fired
very far away, perhaps on the citadel of Strasbourg. It was so
distant, so indistinct, that here in this peaceful country it lingered
only as a vibration; the humming of the clover bees was louder.

Without turning my head I said: "It is difficult to believe that
there is war anywhere in the world--is it not, mademoiselle?"

"Not if one knows the world," she said, indifferently.

"Do you know it, my child?"

"Sufficiently," she said.

She had opened again the book which she had been reading when I first
noticed her. From my saddle I saw that it was Moliere. I examined her,
in detail, from the tips of her small wooden shoes to the scarlet
velvet-banded skirt, then slowly upward, noting the laced bodice of
velvet, the bright hair under the butterfly coiffe of Alsace, the
delicate outline of nose and brow and throat. The ensemble was
theatrical.

"Why do you tend turkeys?" I asked.

"Because it pleases me," she replied, raising her eyebrows in faint
displeasure.

"For that same reason you read Monsieur Moliere?" I suggested.

"Doubtless, monsieur."

"Who are you?"

"Is a passport required in France?" she replied, languidly.

"Are you what you pretend to be, an Alsatian turkey tender?"

"Parbleu! There are my turkeys, monsieur."

"Of course, and there is your peasant dress and there are your wooden
shoes, and there also, mademoiselle, are your soft hands and your
accented speech and your plays of Moliere."

"You are very wise for a hussar," she said.

"Perhaps," said I, "but I have asked you a question which remains
parried."

She balanced the hazel rod across her shoulders with a faintly
malicious smile.

"One might almost believe that you are not a hussar, but an officer
of the Imperial Police," she said.

[Illustration: "'ACROSS THAT MEADOW,' SAID THE YOUNG GIRL"]

"If you think that," said I, "you should answer my question the
sooner--unless you come from La Trappe. Do you?"

"Sometimes."

"Oh! And what do you do at the Chateau de la Trappe?"

"I tend poultry--sometimes," she replied.

"And at other times?"

"I do other things, monsieur."

"What things?"

"What things? Mon Dieu, I read a little, as you perceive, monsieur."

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"Oh, a mere nobody in such learned company," she said, shaking her
head with a mock humility that annoyed me intensely