kward! It is wonderful!"

"Every man has his own taste," said her cousin, stroking the tiny hand.
"It is with women as with flowers. Some may prefer the great brilliant
sunflower, or the rose, which is so bright and large that it must ever
catch the eye. But give me the little violet which hides among the
mosses, and yet is so sweet to look upon, and sheds its fragrance round
it. But still that line upon your brow, dearest."

"I was wishing that father would return."

"And why? Are you so lonely, then?"

Her pale face lit up with a quick smile. "I shall not be lonely until
to-night. But I am always uneasy when he is away. One hears so much
now of the persecution of our poor brethren."

"Tut! my uncle can defy them."

"He has gone to the provost of the Mercer Guild about this notice of the
quartering of the dragoons."

"Ah, you have not told me of that."

"Here it is." She rose and took up a slip of blue paper with a red seal
dangling from it which lay upon the table. His strong, black brows
knitted together as he glanced at it.

"Take notice," it ran, "that you, Theophile Catinat, cloth-mercer of
the Rue St. Martin, are hereby required to give shelter and rations to
twenty men of the Languedoc Blue Dragoons under Captain Dalbert, until
such time as you receive a further notice. [Signed] De Beaupre
(Commissioner of the King)."

De Catinat knew well how this method of annoying Huguenots had been
practised all over France, but he had flattered himself that his own
position at court would have insured his kinsman from such an outrage.
He threw the paper down with an exclamation of anger.

"When do they come?"

"Father said to-night."

"Then they shall not be here long. To-morrow I shall have an order to
remove them. But the sun has sunk behind St. Martin's Church, and I
should already be upon my way."

"No, no; you must not go yet."

"I would that I could give you into your father's charge first, for I
fear to leave you alone when these troopers may come. And yet no excuse
will avail me if I am not at Versailles. But see, a horseman has
stopped before the door. He is not in uniform. Perhaps he is a
messenger from your father."

The girl ran eagerly to the window, and peered out, with her hand
resting upon her cousin's silver-corded shoulder.

"Ah!" she cried, "I had forgotten. It is the man from America.
Father said that he would come to-day."

"The man from America!" repeated the so