ead held high, "they would not believe
you if you did."

"I promise you," he answered, "not to run any risks, to take every care.
But we must not see each other. I may have to go away without seeing
you."

She gave a little nod of comprehension, and held her lips between her
teeth. She was looking towards the door; for she had heard voices in
that direction.

"I should like," she said, "to make you a promise in return. It would
give me great satisfaction. Some day you may, perhaps, be glad to
remember it."

The voices were approaching. It was Deulin's voice, and he seemed to be
speaking unnecessarily loud.

"I promise you," said Wanda, with unfathomable eyes, "never to marry
anybody else."

And the door opened, giving admittance to Deulin, who was laughing and
talking. He came forward looking, not at Wanda and Cartoner, but at the
clock.

"To your tents, O Israel!" he said.

Cartoner said good-night at once, and went to the door. For a moment
Deulin was left alone with Wanda. He went to a side-table, where he had
laid his sword-stick. He took it up, and slowly turned it in his hand.

"Wanda," he said, "remember me in your prayers to-night!"

XXII

THE WHITE FEATHER

It is to be presumed that the majority of people are willing enough
to seek the happiness of others; which desire leads the individual to
interfere in her neighbor's affairs, while it burdens society with a
thousand associations for the welfare of mankind or the raising of the
masses.

Looking at the question from the strictly commonsense point of view,
it would appear to the observer that those who do the most good or the
least harm are the uncharitable. Better than the eager, verbose man
is he who stands on the shore cynically watching a landsman in a boat
without proffering advice as to how the vessel should be navigated,
who only holds out a cold and steady hand after the catastrophe has
happened, or, if no catastrophe supervenes, is content to walk away in
that silent wonder which the care of Providence for the improvident must
ever evoke.

Paul Deulin was considered by his friends to be a cynic; and a French
cynic is not without cruelty. He once told Wanda that he had seen men
and women do much worse than throw their lives away, which was probably
the unvarnished truth. But there must have been a weak spot in his
cynicism. There always is a weak spot in the vice of the most vicious.
For he sat alone in his room at the Hotel d