stache
advanced to meet her. She eagerly scanned his countenance as he held
out his hand. It was grave and sombre. A second glance showed her a
black crape sword knot on the hilt of his sabre. She fainted and sank
upon the floor before St. Eustache could catch her in his arms. He
summoned her maid, and the latter, with the assistance of another
servant, bore her mistress from the apartment.

St. Eustache paced the room to and fro, occasionally raising his eyes
to contemplate the rich gilded ceiling, the paintings and statuettes,
which adorned the _salon_.

"Some style here!" he muttered. "And they say she has this in her own
right. Lioncourt left her some funds, I fancy. Young, beautiful, rich;
by Jove, she is a prize."

His meditations were interrupted by the return of Madame Lioncourt,
who motioned her visitor to be seated, and sank into a _fauteuil_
herself. She was pale as marble, and her eyes were red with recent
tears, but her voice was calm and firm as she said,--

"I need hardly ask you, sir, if my poor husband has fallen. I could
read ill news in your countenance as soon as you appeared. Were you
near him when he fell?"

"I was beside him, madame. We were charging the flying Russians. Our
horses, maddened with excitement, had carried us far in advance of our
column, when suddenly we were surrounded by a group of horsemen, who
took courage and rallied for a moment. Lioncourt was carrying death in
every blow he dealt, when a Russian cavalry officer, discharging his
pistol at point blank distance, shot him dead from the saddle. I saw
no more, for I was myself wounded and swept away in the torrent of the
fight. But he is dead. Even if that pistol shot had not slain him, the
hoofs of his own troopers, as they rushed madly forward in pursuit of
the enemy, would have trampled every spark of life out of his bosom."

Leonide wrung her hands.

"But you, at least, recovered his--his remains?"

"Pardon, madame. I instituted a search for our colonel's body where he
fell. But the spot had already been visited by marauders. All the
insignia of rank had disappeared; and in the mangled heap of stripped
and mutilated corpses, it was impossible to distinguish friend from
foe."

The widowed bride groaned deeply as she covered her face with her
handkerchief and rocked to and fro on her seat.

"Madame," said St. Eustache, "I will no longer intrude upon your
grief. When time has somewhat assuaged the poignancy of your
a