eaning.

"Oh, you are terrible!" murmured Marie, turning her face away.

"I am so for your sake, Marie."

"For my sake?" echoed the young girl, sorrowfully. "For my sake? Do you
imagine that _I_ shall take pleasure in seeing you go into battle?
Suppose you should fall?"

"Have no fear on that score, Marie," returned the young man,
confidently. "I shall have a guiding star to watch over me; and if there
be a God in heaven--"

"Then may He take me to Himself!" interposed the young girl in a fervent
tone, lifting a transfigured glance toward heaven. "And may He grant
that there be not on earth one other Frenchwoman who is forced to pray
for the defeat of her own nation! May He grant that there be not
another woman in the world who is waiting until a pedestal is formed of
her countrymen's and kinsmen's skeletons, that she may be elevated to it
as an idol from which many, many of her brothers will turn with a curse!
May God take me to Himself now--now, while yet my two hands are white,
while yet I cherish toward my nation nothing but love and tenderness,
now when I forgive and forget everything, and desire none of this
world's splendor for myself!"

Ludwig Vavel was filled with admiration by this outburst from the
innocent girl heart.

"Your words, Marie, only increase the brilliancy of the halo which
encircles your head. They legalize the rights of my sword. I, too, adore
my native land--no one more than I! I, too, bow before the infinite
judge and submit my case to His wise decision. O God, Thou who
protecteth France, look down and behold him who rides yonder, his horse
ankle-deep in the blood of his countrymen, who looks without pity on the
dying legions and says, 'It is well!' Then, O God, look Thou upon this
saint here, who prays for her persecutors, and pass judgment between the
two: which of the two is Thy image on earth?"

"Oh, pray understand me," in a pleading voice interposed Marie, passing
her trembling fingers over Ludwig's cheek. "Not one drop of heroic blood
flows in my veins. I am not the offspring of those great women who
crowned with their own hands their knights to send them into battle. I
dread to lose you, Ludwig; I have no one in this wide world but you. On
this whole earth there is not another orphan so desolate as I am! When
you go to war, and I am left here all alone, what will become of me? Who
will care for me and love me then?"

Vavel gently drew the young girl to his breast.

"Marie,