sly drifting toward the simple, primitive and natural
goal for which all healthy bodies are created and destined--the
instinct of the human being to protect and perpetuate the race by the
great Law of Love.

Brisson's not unkindly cynicism had left his lips edged with a slight
smile. Presently he leaned back beside Estridge and said in a low
voice:

"Purely pathological. Ardent religious instinct astray and running
wild in consequence of nervous dislocations due to shock. Merely
over-storage of superb physical energy. Intellectual and spiritual
wires overcrowded. Too many volts.... That girl ought to have been
married early. Only a lot of children can keep her properly occupied.
Only outlet for her kind. Interesting case. Contrast to the Swedish
girl. Fine, handsome, normal animal that. She could pick me up between
thumb and finger. Great girl, Estridge."

"She is really beautiful," whispered Estridge, glancing at Ilse.

"Yes. So is Mont Blanc. That sort of beauty--the super-sort. But it's
the other who is pathologically interesting because her wires are
crossed and there's a short circuit somewhere. Who comes in contact
with her had better look out."

"She's wonderfully attractive."

"She is. But if she doesn't disentangle her wires and straighten out
she'll burn out.... What's that ahead? A wolf!"

It was the rest house at the end of the etape--a tiny, distant speck
on the snowy plain.

Brisson leaned over and caught Palla's eye. Both smiled.

"Well," he said, "for a girl who doesn't believe in anything, you seem
cheerful enough."

"I am cheerful because I _do_ believe in everything and in everybody."

Brisson laughed: "You shouldn't," he said. "Great mistake. Trust in
God and believe nobody--that's the idea. Then get married and close
your eyes and see what God will send you!"

The girl threw back her pretty head and laughed.

"Marriage and priests are of no consequence," she said, "but I adore
little children!"

CHAPTER II

They were a weary, half-starved and travel-stained quartette when the
Red Guards stopped them for the last time in Russia and passed them
through, warning them that the White Guards would surely do murder if
they caught them.

The next day the White Guards halted them, but finally passed them
through, counselling them to keep out of the way of the Red Guards if
they wished to escape being shot at sight.

In the neat, shiny, carefully scrubbed little city of Helsingf