s
face, and then I hated him. So, when you kissed me to-day, I thought of
that, and it made me unhappy--but yes."

"You did not slap my face, Luzanne?"

She blushed and hung her head. "No, I did not; you are not a bad man.
He would have spoiled my life. He made it clear I could have all
the luxuries money could buy--all except marriage!" She shrugged her
shoulders.

Carnac was of an impressionable nature, but brought to face the
possibility of marriage with Luzanne, he shrank. If ever he married it
would be a girl like Junia Shale, beautiful, modest, clever and well
educated. No, Luzanne could never be for him. So he forbore doing more
than ask her to forgive him, and he would take her to lunch-the last
lunch of the picture-if she would. With features in chagrin, she put on
her hat, yet when she turned to him, she was smiling.

He visited her home occasionally, and Luzanne's father had a friend,
Ingot by name, who was sometimes present. This man made himself almost
unbearable at first; but Luzanne pulled Ingot up acridly, and he
presently behaved well. Ingot disliked all men in better positions than
himself, and was a revolutionary of the worst sort--a revolutionary and
monarchist. He was only a monarchist because he loved conspiracy and
hated the Republican rulers who had imprisoned him--"those bombastics,"
he called them. It was a constitutional quarrel with the world. However,
he became tractable, and then he and Larue formed a plot to make Carnac
marry Luzanne. It was hatched by Ingot, approved by Larue, and at length
consented to by the girl, for so far as she could love anyone, she loved
Carnac; and she made up her mind that if he married her, no matter how,
she would make him so happy he would forgive all.

About four months after the incident in the studio, a picnic was
arranged for the Hudson River. Only the four went. Carnac had just sold
a picture at a good price--his Christian Martyr picture--and he was in
high spirits. They arrived at the spot arranged for the picnic in time
for lunch, and Luzanne prepared it. When the lunch was ready, they sat
down. There was much gay talk, compliments to Carnac came from both
Larue and Ingot, and Carnac was excited and buoyant. He drank much
wine and beer, and told amusing stories of the French-Canadians which
delighted them all. He had a gift of mimicry and he let himself go.

"You got a pretty fine tongue in your head--but of the best," said Ingot
with a burst of